Harry Potter and the Lessons of Urza
by gotanaddictiontofanfiction
Summary: Harry was looking for Nicolas Flamel. Instead, Harry found a whole different way to use magic. Crossover with Magic: the Gathering. first fic, reviews are always appreciated
1. Chapter 1

I've been fascinated with the Harry Potter universe for a long time, with close to nine years now of lurking. It's what initially pulled me into this world, but one thing that bit even before HP fanfics was the backstory for Magic: The Gathering. The story of the madness and eventual redemption of Urza, the tales of Jodah, and the Phyrexian invasion all titillated me. A crossover between the two was one of the first things I looked for, but to this day there are only two. I hope that fans of both universes can find something they enjoy in my work.

Harry and his friends were looking in the library for any information about Nicolas Flamel. They searched in all the common biographies and were now switching into more esoteric territory. Harry looked through books labeled, 'Greatest People in the History of Poland,' 'Fetes, Feats and Triumphs: Heroes of Might and Magic' and even 'Wizarding Gods: Great People of Recent Memory.' Harry was about to give the whole thing up as a bad job when he noticed a small biography crammed into the piles of books titled 'Urza, Planeswalker.' He looked more closely. It talked about a man who never used a wand, but was capable of seemingly impossible works of magic. It appeared to be hundreds of years old, but it was tossed into the stacks like a pillow book. Harry thought it might be interesting, and placed it in his bag. He looked around. Maybe the book he needed was treated like this. Nicolas Flamel might still be found! He kept looking.

It was almost a week later when Harry remembered the odd book. Having finished his homework ahead of Ron and lacking anything else to do, he began to read. The ideas in the book were strange. The author described meeting a man while attempting astral projection. The author, one Renford A. Tewilliger, encountered a man called Urza, who described himself as a planeswalker from the world of Dominaria. A planeswalker, Urza said, was someone who could move through different worlds, or planes, through a force of will. The process was similar to astral projection, but far less dangerous, and only a few were capable of it. Renford only encountered Urza by remote chance, for Renford was losing his tether to his body and had Urza not interfered Renford would have likely died. Urza pulled Renford from the ether, and Renford found himself physically present in a world consisting of nothing but clouds and floating islands. Urza, he said, had brought him to another plane.

Urza was as fascinated by Renford as Renford was with Urza. The idea that magic was something only usable through the use of magical artifacts like wands seemed preposterous to Urza. Urza, a man gifted in the creation of magical artifacts, said that artifacts that powerful were rare where he came from. Most often, people just exercised their will and made things happen. Renford, who watched Urza shoot lightning from his hands to kill a wild beast, then wave his hand at a spot on the ground and create a roaring fire from nothing, was inclined to believe him. Urza explained that all lands have power, the power to create and destroy life. Each different type of land was capable of producing a different type of power. Mountains, he said, were the source of fire, as they were a symbol and a conduit to the power of the earth. They also were the source of power for overt violence, and most offensive magic was based on it. Islands and the seas were a source of water magic, clearly, but the waters were often used to represent the shifting mind. Islands, therefore, were the source of power for basic mind magic and knowledge. Forests were a source of nature magic, the kind that allows a plant to grow or a creature of the forest to flourish. This magic allowed a person to accelerate the growth of a person or creature, giving them enormous physical strength. Plains give the magic of civilization, where people and religious concepts come more into focus. Plains provide white magic, which allows the mind to heal or become ordered. Angels (and that was a revelation Renford was not prepared for) drew their power from these sources of white magic. Finally, swamps, the source of black magic, gave power to the agents of decay, but also those that might disrupt emotions or minds. This magic was focused on the spirit and soul, and contained the power to reanimate the dead, or call upon the souls of those departed. Urza stressed that all magic was power, and that it could be used for good or for evil.

Harry was fascinated, and it took Ron physically taking the book from him for Harry to go down and eat dinner. While there, his mind remained on the book, and the concepts presented. Was this real? Could the power exist for him to be able to talk to his parents, meet them and get to know them?

What if the power existed that could bring them back to life? How would he go about doing it?

If what Renford said was true and this form of magic was possible, Harry was going to do all he could to make it happen. That meant getting his friends involved.

"A NEW BRANCH OF MAGIC?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? OF COURSE I WANT TO HELP!"

Harry was fairly certain Hermione was on board. Ron however…

"Studying outside of classes? Have you gone mad?"

The trouble was that Harry wasn't sure how he would go about starting the process. Urza told Renford that Urza was special, and that magic came much more naturally to him than it did for others. The other practitioners spent weeks and months learning the land and would meditate there for hours on end, feeling the connection to the land that was the source of their might. Harry wasn't sure it would be safe for him to spend lots of time in the Forbidden Forest, but he certainly could go and sit by the lake and not have to worry. Long hours spent in the cupboard had taught him to be quiet and still, letting his imagination run wild, but he wasn't sure that he'd be all that good at contemplative meditation. But he would try. After all, maybe he could see his parents through this magic.

Harry began waking up early on Sunday mornings before Quidditch practice to go sit by the lake. He would watch the giant squid and listen to the water lap at the shore. After a while he was able to picture and hear the sounds whenever he wanted, and was able to make himself feel the energy of the place. He found this especially useful whenever Malfoy or Snape began to taunt him, and the cool, soothing energy washing over him made it easy to ignore them. He found as well that even when not calming himself through this meditation, Malfoy and Snape had a harder time goading him. Even more, when Malfoy managed to shoot his mouth off about the shabby casual clothes Harry wore, Harry calmly responded that he was glad someone was paying so close attention to him, and he was flattered, but Harry really didn't see Malfoy in that light. After a moment of stunned silence, everyone around them in the hallway started to laugh, including Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy flushed, and then barked at his two goons to shut up and follow him. After that, Harry and Hermione started waking up early every day to go sit by the lake.

Hermione had an easier time organizing herself and falling into the trance, but she was never able to feel the energy Harry described. She felt that the power should reach itself out to her when she was ready, but Harry understood it as tapping into what was already there, and making use of what it was already providing.

"The book says the energy should come to us!" Hermione pouted. She was not used to failing and the experience was grating on her. She was ahead of everyone else in their classes, but this concept seemed more interesting than whatever the teachers had in store for them. Harry was struggling to pay attention in what he now perceived to be boring classes. He had no problem doing the wandwork: If anything his abilities had improved exponentially. While in class, his mind was constantly at the shoreline, but was able to answer questions easily. Professor McGonagall worried about him, but could not prove anything was wrong. Ron was feeling left out, but he was fast becoming friends with Dean and Seamus, and so was less concerned. Only Neville wondered where Harry went early in the mornings. One day his curiosity got the better of him.

"H-Harry?" Harry turned around. Harry was fully dressed and just a couple of steps away from the Fat Lady when Neville caught up to him. Neville was still in his pajamas, but looked like he had been up for some time. Harry sighed.

"Yes Neville? I was about to head out."

Neville leapt onto this. "Well, that's kind of what I wanted to ask you about. You're always waking up early, and we never see you at breakfast. Where do you go?"

Harry was about to blow Neville off. This was kind of a private ritual for him, and Ron's casual dismissal hurt more than Harry cared to admit. But then Harry thought of the book, and how there was a whole branch of this magic devoted to plants and growing things. Maybe he could get Neville involved. It couldn't hurt, and maybe with him there Harry and Hermione could get results.

"Why don't you come with me? Hermione and I are trying out something new, a different type of magic. Maybe another mind can help us get past the roadblock we're having."

"New magic? That's really advanced stuff, it is! But why do you want my help? I'm rubbish with a wand. Only thing I'm good for is tending plants."

"Well, Neville, that's kind of the point. The whole idea of this magic is we don't need wands to do it. Part of that magic is working with plants and living things, and nobody's better at Herbology at this school than you. You want to give us a hand?"

Neville thought about this. Even though he _was _better than any other student at Herbology, nobody came to him for help. The idea had some appeal. "Okay, I'll help. But if this turns out to be a trick…"

"No tricks, Neville. Besides, do you really think Hermione would be in on a prank on you? She's not like that, and you know it."

Harry and Neville met up with Hermione down by the lake. They explained what they were trying to accomplish, but told Neville to try something different. "Neville, instead of trying to feel the power of the lake, why don't you concentrate on how you feel when you are tending plants? Think about that contented feeling you get when you get absorbed into a long project. Meditate on that for a while, and in a few weeks we'll see what we can do. For now, I just want you to be able to call that idea into your head as easily as possible." Harry wasn't sure the meditation method would work for Neville, but at the moment they weren't even sure what they were doing would work for them. But, seeing as it was all they had, they were forced to continue.

The exercises were more effective for Neville in one way than for either Hermione of Harry. Almost immediately after Neville started joining the two down by the lake, he started growing taller, and was losing his rounded features. People looking at Neville could see the beginnings of muscle that could only come from long hours of hard work. These muscles were hidden by the fat on Neville, and these exercises allowed them to come to the surface. Harry was tempted to work with Neville, but he was reluctant to abandon what little progress he made. Plus while neither Harry nor Neville were able to do what was described in Tewilliger's book, Harry felt he at least was on the edge of a break through.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stuck with his meditation, but he couldn't continue to ignore Malfoy for long. Things came to a head on the last day before Christmas vacation.

When Harry, Hermione and Neville came down for the Christmas decorations, Malfoy was already there. He was making snide comments at Ron, but Dean and Seamus were already pulling him away. Harry and his friends seeing Malfoy, decided to leave before he could try and insult them. Unfortunately, Malfoy spotted them. "Hey, Scarhead! Scarhead! Potter! Hey I'm talking to you!" Harry turned around, moving to speak to Hagrid carrying a tree into the hall rather than allow Malfoy to bother them. Unfortunately, Malfoy was not to be deterred. "Too bad you can't go home to a place where you're wanted. Of course you've got no idea what that's like. Blast it you stupid orphan boy- would you look at me while I talk to you!?" As soon as Malfoy started to try to get their attention, Harry began his meditation exercises. The usual cool energy filled him, but this time it was a little different. Instead of feeling calm and peaceful, he felt keyed up and ready to act. Still, he tried to keep his distance from the spoiled brat. Ron, Dean and Seamus stopped, knowing that this was about to get entertaining.

Malfoy could see no sign that Harry or his friends were paying attention to him. Being an only child, he was not used to being ignored, and did not like it. "That's it! Desaunguo!" The curse rocketed forward and hit Hermione in the back, causing her to cry out and fall. Harry acted on instinct. He turned around and flung his empty hand toward Malfoy. A patch of magical ice formed over Malfoy's nose and mouth, making it so he couldn't breathe. Malfoy's eyes widened in panic as he realized his predicament. Professor Snape, watching from the shadows, moved into the Great Hall to help the Slytherin. Hagrid moved as well, holding Hermione in his arms as her teeth grew to alarming and painful proportions. Harry, still full of energy, wished for the spell to stop working, and focused that wish on Hermione's teeth. The growth halted.

Snape however was not having as much success as Malfoy's pale face turned blue. Nothing he was doing seemed to have any effect on the ice preventing Malfoy from breathing, and the normally pale boy was beginning to turn an alarming shade of purple. Snape was becoming increasingly desperate. "Potter, I don't know what you did, but get over here and reverse it before you become a murderer!" Harry turned towards his two least favorite people in the castle. Unsure of what to do, or what he had done in the first place, he waved his hand, thinking about what he wanted to happen. The ice disappeared, and Malfoy fell to the ground gasping. Snape left him to his ever-present body guards and stalked towards the Gryffindors. "I will see you expelled for this, Potter! That was attempted murder!" The normally cool and collected professor was furious. Harry fully expected Snape to try to curse him himself. Unconsciously Harry began to draw more power into himself from the lake. Before anything could happen, however, Professor McGonagall stepped into the Great Hall, Ron, Dean and Seamus following.

"What in the world has happened here?! Severus, Hagrid, explain! These boys came to me saying that there was a spell duel in the middle of the Great Hall!" The woman was livid at the very thought.

Snape all of a sudden seemed reluctant to speak. He had not noticed Hagrid as he, from Snape's point of view, was blocked by the large tree. Hagrid, however, wasted no time. "I saw teh whole thing Professor. Draco over there was trying to goad Weasley inta a figh' when 'arry and 'is other friends showed up. Draco tried ter insult 'arry's family, but 'arry was jus' ignorin' 'im and tryin' ter talk ter me. Draco got mad at being ignored an' cursed 'ermione in teh back. 'Arry just turned around and flung out 'is 'and. Didn' even 'ave a wand in it! Ice formed over Malfoy's mouth an' 'arry turned back an' stopped 'ermione's teeth from growin'. 'E was jus' defendin' 'imself an' 'is friends! Professor Snape wanted ter expel 'im! How's that fair?"

Professor McGonagall turned her eyes to the Potions Master. "Severus, is this true?"

Professor Snape smoothly replied, "Yes it's true, Potter attempted murder over a schoolyard hex! Draco's lucky Potter removed the ice before he suffocated. Potter should be expelled! He has the same disregard for other students as his father. We should get rid of him before he infects the rest of the school!"

"Severus! That is ridiculous and grossly unfair. By your admission Mr. Malfoy fired the first hex at Miss Granger's unprotected back. That is assault by any standards. Mr. Potter's actions are clearly self-defense and unconscious magic! For God's sake Severus, he didn't even have his wand out!" She turned to Hagrid. "Hagrid, please escort Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing to reverse the spell effects. She will not want to go home tomorrow looking like that. As for you Mr. Malfoy, a month's detention upon your return to school, and a fifty point deduction from Slytherin for your disgraceful actions! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Malfoy looked up at the deputy headmistress with hatred in his eyes. Panting he threatened, "When…my father…hears about…this…"

Professor Snape interrupted him before he could say anything more. "He would be ashamed of you." Taking Malfoy by the elbow, he spoke softly into Malfoy's ear, "But especially for getting caught! And for being beaten by one spell!" He dragged the young man down to the dungeons, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

Professor McGonagall then turned to the Gryffindors. Her eyes now expressed disappointment in them, but she didn't say anything about the fight being their fault. "Mr. Potter, do you want to tell me what hex it was that you used on Mr. Malfoy? I have not heard it's like before and clearly it is very dangerous. Where did you learn about it?"

Harry shrugged. "I honestly didn't think of anything. I just wanted him to not curse us again. My magic must have thought this was the best way."

"I'm sorry you felt you had to do that. While violence is never the answer in these situations, you clearly acted in defense of a friend and while under attack yourself. I will not take away points or assign detentions, but I want you to promise me you will endeavor to avoid finding yourself in situations like this. Many times in your tenure at this school you will find yourself in situations like these were hexes are being thrown at you, and I want you to tell me you will not let them escalate to this level again! As unpleasant as young Malfoy may be, sometimes the best solution is to take his ridicule and turn the other cheek. Otherwise he will feel forced to do what he did today again, do you understand?"

Harry bristled. "You mean to tell me that I should just let him make fun of me? Let him mock me with impunity? How is that fair to me or to anyone else?"

McGonagall sighed. "It's not. But my interests are keeping my students safe. I can't do that if one of them regularly loses his temper and curses other students for reasons that are preventable. Avoid Mr. Malfoy outside of classes. Rest assured I will be cracking down on him so that he learns the consequences of exploding like he did today. His punishments will not be pleasant. Don't make me punish you as well." With those parting words, McGonagall strode off, no doubt to inform the headmaster of the situation.

Harry, despite his anger at his dressing down, was ecstatic. He looked at Neville, and the formerly round-face boy shared his excitement. Here finally was proof that everything they had been working towards was real! This wandless stuff really did work. Harry had never felt so powerful holding a wand, and knew that this was only the beginning. Once winter break started, he would ask Hagrid if he could help in the Forbidden Forest, or to see if he could take him into the mountains surrounding the lake. Maybe Harry could get special permission to explore the forest by himself! That would really help his studies.

Harry frowned. He remembered that this whole project started when he was looking for information on Nicolas Flamel. Why had he forgotten about that? How could he have forgotten about the enormous three headed dog on the third floor? It nearly ate him and his friends! Harry was beginning to become agitated. Unconsciously, he began to think of the lake again, and began ordering his thoughts. For some reason, he thought of the train ride. Then he remembered where he had heard the name Flamel before.

"Neville! I remembered!" Harry started off towards the Hospital Wing at a fast clip.

"Remembered what?"

"Where I heard the name Nicolas Flamel before! Dumbledore worked with Flamel in Alchemy! We have to tell Hermione!"

"But how did you remember that? What made you think of it?" Neville was now struggling to keep up with Harry in his excitement. Harry was almost flying down the corridors. Indeed, Neville was seeing a slight blue glow surrounding Harry. It was very faint, but whatever it was it was allowing him to move faster than he had ever moved before on his feet. It was almost as if he was flying, but without a broom.

"I don't know what made me think of it. I was just ordering my mind like I usually do after thinking of the power, and all of a sudden it came to me, like a flash of insight! It's like I can think clearly now, for the first time in my life. It's great!" Harry was almost bouncing in his excitement. He couldn't wait to tell Hermione.

Despite Harry's obvious urgency, they were not able to see Hermione for at least an hour. By the time Madam Pomfrey finally let them in, Harry was ready to climb the walls of the castle and sneak in through the windows. Hermione was touched by their concern for her wellbeing as Harry breathlessly described his breakthrough with both wandless magic and with Nicolas Flamel. After asking Hermione if she saw how he was able to cast ice over Malfoy's mouth for the fifth time, Hermione finally exploded. "No, Harry, I didn't see it because I was on the ground trying to keep my teeth from reaching down below my chin! I appreciate you stopping the spell, but how do you know that what you did wasn't accidental? Did you try it again?"

Harry, chastened, immediately stopped pestering his friend. But because he had so much energy still, he knew he could do as she asked. He threw his hand out like he did last, concentrating on the feeling. A whole wall of ice sprung forth. It moved forward along the floor and crashed into the wall opposite from them. Neville was dumbstruck. "That was awesome! What else can you do?" Harry waved his hands again. He pictured Neville moving through the air like a puppet on strings. When he opened his eyes, Neville was four feet off of the ground! By now Harry was feeling tired, so he pictured putting Neville back down. Once Neville was safely on the ground, Harry sat down heavily on Hermione's bed. He looked at her with triumph in his eyes. Then he looked closer.

"Hey Hermione, are your teeth smaller than they were before?"

"Of course they are. I wasn't going to keep those chompers now was I?" But she didn't look him in the eye when she said it.

"No, I mean smaller than they were before Malfoy cursed them." He noticed that she was blushing a little. "They are, aren't they? What did you do?"

Hermione looked a little mischievous. "Well, she held up a mirror and told me to say when to stop, so I…let it go on a little." At their looks she got defensive. "What? It's not like my parents would pay to have my teeth reduced. They're dentists! They know how much that stuff costs."

Harry immediately set her straight. "We're not mad at you Hermione. I mean, you look good now, but we liked you before, you know? You didn't have to change yourself."

Hermione's eyes got a little misty. "Oh, you stupid boys!" She hit Harry on the side of the arm, but she was smiling while she did it.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione and Neville left the next day, each promising to keep up with their practice. Each was impressed at the display of power, and both wanted to catch up to Harry. Harry told them "It's not a race, guys!" but they were determined to catch up to if not surpass Harry's achievements. When Harry recovered from his exertion, it seemed that if Harry had limits on what he could do, he had not reached them. He could turn invisible, fly without a broom and remember entire books without effort. He remembered the biography on Urza, and it mentioned that the magic he was doing was based in the mind. That suggested to him that he might be able to read or possibly control minds, but he was nervous about having that much power over his friends, and stayed away from it.

Harry looked up Nicolas Flamel in a book in library called, "Great Works in Alchemy." He found that Flamel was the only person ever to create a Sorcerer's Stone, an object that could turn base metals into gold and could create the elixir of life. Somehow, though, the three headed dog and the great treasure hidden in the castle didn't seem all that important. Harry was more concerned with his new powers. Harry decided that Dumbledore must have a good reason for keeping the Stone there.

Harry spent the first few days exploring the castle uninterrupted by classes or Malfoy. With his now perfect memory, he was capable of remembering a complete map of Hogwarts, and would never get lost on his way to class again. Harry also explored the library, memorizing the books he would need for the next few years of classes. In terms of his wand waving classes, he could do anything they could have asked of him as a fourth year, but he refused to volunteer his knowledge where the teachers could see him. Hermione still raised her hand in class and usually was the first to answer, but it was more like she was performing a role, making sure no one knew just how far ahead she really was. Neville was in the same boat as Harry: far advanced, but definitely did not want to show it. The only time he let himself shine was Herbology, and Neville was already a prodigy there. After taking the lessons learned by the lake, Neville's plants looked healthier, produced more and better fruit and grew faster. Neville couldn't wait to unleash himself on his greenhouses at home. Hermione had the theory that this kind of magic was untraceable, as it didn't involve wands. She was going to see what she could do at home over break.

Harry also spent his time exploring the grounds. He wasn't allowed into the Forbidden Forest, not until he talked to Hagrid at least, but his morning sessions at the lake were now spent exploring it. He knew the water would have to come from somewhere, and would spend days trying to walk around the lake to reach the headwaters. A few days after Neville and Hermione had gone home, Harry found a small swamp, an offshoot of the river that fed the lake. It was a smelly brackish thing, and Harry almost lost a shoe exploring it, but at the end of the day he considered it a success. He remembered the biography, and how it said that the swamps held a power of their own. Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to use the power, as Urza had described it as being powered by hate and frequently used for evil. Eventually Harry figured it was better to have a tool and not use it than to need a tool and not have it.

Harry meditated in the bog like he did at the side of the lake, but found himself frustrated. The power was there, he could sense it. The problem was that even trying to access the power there led to a splitting headache in the area around his scar and a feeling of unease. Harry knew, however, that he was close to a breakthrough, and kept at it. All he had to do was make sure he had the power. Like the time he first accessed to magic of the lake, he just had to put himself in the situation where he would need it most, and the power would take care of the rest.

He just hoped he'd be able to reverse it in time. Wouldn't want Malfoy to die because of poor control on Harry's part, after all.

Harry frowned. Both Snape and McGonagall were still in the castle, but they hadn't tried to speak to him. The Transfiguration professor seemed to look at him with a small amount of sadness, while Professor Snape looked at him with no small amount of loathing. Both looks however were tempered by expressions of deep interest. Harry figured that neither one of them were buying the excuse of accidental magic anymore.

Harry sighed, and stood up from his rock in the middle of the swamp. He had spent enough time here today. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and while he didn't have anyone to spend it with, there were friends that would appreciate a hello on the following day. He couldn't send them anything, but he could let Hermione and Neville, and possibly the members of the Quidditch team not in the castle that he was thinking of them. He'd be able to wish the twins and Ron a Merry Christmas, but they were the only ones in the castle.

Harry summoned the memories of the lake. The power came to him readily, almost eager to be used. Harry imagine the energy pulling him up like a broom strapped to his back and found his feet floating a few feet off the messy ground of the marsh. With a smile on his face, he directed himself to the woods around the lake. It wouldn't do to have a student or professor to see him flying without a broom. Too many awkward questions, and Harry was having a hard enough time dodging inquiries from Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall about his progress. They wanted to give house points to the older years tutoring him and Neville. Harry didn't have the heart to tell them that he could do the lessons in his sleep.

Harry was flying through the forest at a good clip, dodging tree after tree, when he noticed a flash of silver on the ground. Seeing more of it up ahead, he slowed down and landed. It was a viscous fluid, looking like someone had liquefied a mirror. The drops had landed in what looked like a blood trail, one that got heavier as it went deeper into the woods. Harry was torn. This was something for Hagrid, definitely something he should be told about, but what to say? Harry decided to fly again, but this time he made the wind blow so that he was downwind from the end of the trail, and wrapped his magic around him to make himself invisible. He then floated off the ground and made his way toward whatever was making this mess.

An hour later, the sun was beginning to set, and Harry believed he was getting closer to whatever it was that was bleeding so heavily. As he got closer, the trail got easier to follow, with larger puddles of what Harry believed to be-

Harry crested a ridge, and saw it. A dead unicorn, surrounded by a pool of silvery blood. Harry was almost reflexively distraught at the demise of such a graceful and beautiful creature. And there was something there, with its head bent low to the grievous wound in the poor creature's neck

Harry made no sound, made no movements, but whatever the thing that killed the unicorn was, it was able to detect him. It lifted its head from the foul feast, and began to move quickly towards the ridge on which Harry stood. It kept low to the ground, its dark cloak masking all but a pair of red, glowing eyes hidden deep with the cowl. It moved with inhuman speed, racing amid the detritus of the forest with an evil intent that was almost palpable. Unnerved, Harry stumbled backward, hitting a tree. He lost his concentration in his shock, and fell back to the ground. The thing was starting to move along the bottom of the ridge, moving to where it could climb up and get to him. Harry began to feel his heart pounding, and he was starting to panic. Should he fight it, or should he try to run? It killed a unicorn, and everything that Harry had read about Magical creatures said that in addition to being pure, they were extremely intelligent and tough to bring down. Whatever the thing was, it looked like it might be able to fly. It clearly knew where he was without any indication on Harry's part. Maybe it was time to try to reason with it.

"Stay back! I'm warning you! I can do powerful magic!" The creature kept coming forward. It started up the ridge and directly towards Harry. Desperate, Harry cast his Wall of Ice spell, and directed the foot thick block race forward to slam into the cloaked being. Apparently, despite moving with the smoothness of fog, the caped thing was still solid, and was crushed between a wall of ice and a large tree. Most of the ice wall broke and disappeared, but the largest chunk stayed on top of the creature, pinning it in place. There was a loud screech of pain and frustration, but it was stuck. Harry, heartened, moved closer to see what it was he was fighting.

Harry could see that whatever it was, it resembled a man in a cloak. All was hidden in a dark grey traveling cloak. The face was still obscured despite the fact that Harry could clearly see the red eyes of the man-like creature. They glared at him with such hate and loathing that Harry almost took a step back. Now Harry wasn't sure what to do. He could probably still fly away, and no one would think less of him. In fact, he probably should still go straight to Hagrid. There might be awkward questions, but it would be the easy thing to do. But Harry had lived his life not trusting anyone, for nearly everyone really was out to get him in some way or another. Harry summoned a thick, jagged icicle from nothingness, and moved it closer to the apparition's neck. It stilled, understanding the threat implied. It was time to get some answers.

"What are you? Are you a vampire? A wraith?" Harry paused, waiting for it to respond. Harry could hear heavy breathing hissing through an unseen mouth. He willed the ice block harder against the tree, and was rewarded with a groan. "Answer me! What are you?"

Finally, the being answered. "I'm surprised you don't recognize me, Harry Potter! But then again, you were only a baby when last we met. How much do you remember of that night? Do you remember me at all?"

Harry reared back as if struck. A wave of hatred washed over him. His scar throbbed, but harry paid it no mind. His eyes narrowed and he pushed forward, intent on getting a straight response. "Voldemort! But you're dead! How can you be here after a decade?"

A high, cold laugh rang out, and Harry was reminded of that night, and that flash of green light. "Foolish boy! I have gone beyond anyone else to defeat death. I can never die! Oh but I was weakened. Your mudblood mother did something to reduce me to the meanest spirit upon cursing you. I will admit she probably had the last laugh. I thought there couldn't be anything truly special about you. But here you are, wandlessly summoning things, flying without aid, these are rare and powerful gifts. I knew you had to be the one."

"What do you mean? Did you come after me that night? Am I…" Harry couldn't finish that thought. However, Voldemort had no such compunctions.

"Are you the reason your parents are dead? Yes, I killed them to get to you. There was a prophecy made about us, before you were born. You were the one supposed to defeat me. I sort of think, at this stage, you have a somewhat sporting chance. But once I get my hands on the stone, I will be immortal once again. And you will never be able to defeat me!"

Suddenly the block shattered, the shards disappearing. Voldemort had cast a spell strong enough to blast the ice block and Harry backwards. As Harry tumbled, his mind lost its grip on the icicle by his opponent's neck, and it fell to the ground. Voldemort flowed forward, a wand emerging from the cloak. Harry leapt to his feet, more terrified now than he had ever been in his life. The wand shot forward, and a sickly yellow light moved at blinding speed towards Harry. He dodged, and the spell hit a tree. The bark on the tree immediately withered, and turned black with rot. Harry ran, years of Harry-hunting coming to mind. Another spell came streaming over his shoulder, close enough that Harry could feel the heat of it on his cheek. Harry tried to gather the power of the lake to him again, but couldn't focus enough. His scar was pulsing with pain, and Harry reached desperately for energy, any kind, something that would save him…

It happened so fast. One second Voldemort was walking towards Harry, victory in his eyes, when a tree suddenly bent over and swung a tree branch at his midsection. The blow came too fast for the former dark lord to dodge, and he was flung back several yards where he landed gasping and wheezing in pain. Harry looked up, and could see the tree start to move. The roots burst from the ground and the tree began walking towards Harry, covering him. Voldemort lurched to his feet. He shot another spell, purple this time, but the spell was reflected with doing any damage. He hissed at the ambulatory tree, and raced away, moving deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Harry slumped back in relief, adrenalin leaving him in a daze. He looked at his protective tree, and could see what looked like a face winking back at him. It then faded, and the tree was still once more.

Harry knew that next time, he'd just run away. It seemed easier. He gathered the lake energy again, and started flying back to the castle. He had to warn Hagrid. He had to warn McGonagall.

He had to warn Dumbledore. Everyone needed to hear about this.

Harry paused mid-flight. Did everyone need to know? Harry was able to fight him to a standstill and he had no idea what he was doing. Maybe if he kept up with his training, and learned all the types of magic, he could defeat Voldemort himself. Nobody believes kids anyway, and there would be no need to panic everyone. Harry just need to work harder.

And he had to make sure Voldemort never got near the Sorcerer's Stone.


	4. Chapter 4

No beta except Kurzweil

Harry decided that he had to at least warn Hagrid that something might be killing unicorns in his forest, regardless of the consequences. Harry figured Hagrid wouldn't bother involving anyone else. Grounds-keeping was his job, and he wouldn't need to tell anyone what he was doing, right? Besides, Hagrid was a gentle soul, and the idea that something was hunting such a pure creature in his territory and he was doing nothing about it would hurt Hagrid, and by extension Harry. Hagrid was his first friend in this world, the first person to tell Harry that Harry was worth something. Hagrid deserved to be able to do something, whatever he could against the shade of Voldemort. Besides, if Hagrid was able to come up with something and keep the unicorns safe, that would stymie Voldemort and anything along those lines was something to be encouraged, no matter the risk.

In any case, at this point he was too weak to hurt the students. It's not like the Dark Lord was able to get into the castle, right? Until then Harry was the only one in that madman's path, and Harry was perfectly okay with putting himself in danger, so long as none of his friends were at risk.

"Ye sure? Unicorn blood?" Hagrid asked as the two of them trampled through the brush of the forest. They were not going to go deep into the woods. Harry didn't want to let up just how far into the woods he had gone, so he was leading Hagrid to where he had first found the blood trail. There were still awkward questions, like, "What were ye doin' all te way out 'ere 'arry?" "Why did ye not come ter me?" and, "'ow'd ye know what unicorn blood looks like?" Harry answered best he could, answering he liked to wander for the first, he was curious for the second and he had read it in a book for the third. Hagrid wondered at that book, but let it go when Harry said it didn't have anything else that was interesting and he put it back somewhere. The first two answers got disappointed looks from the large man, and Harry swore he would make sure not to let the man know about upsetting actions in the future.

They stopped when they reached the first puddle. "Aye, this is unicorn blood alright. I'ma go look for the creature in question. You, 'arry, go back the way we came and find Dumbledore. 'E's gonna want ter know what's been going on. It's on the seventh floor of the 'eadmaster's tower; look for the gargoyle. Password's lemon drops." With that Hagrid unslung his siege crossbow and moved deeper into the forest, following the trail. Harry hoped he didn't find anything other than a dead unicorn. Harry moved away from Hagrid then began to fly. No sense walking when there's a faster way, and Harry needed to start making flying reflexive. He could have avoided most of the fight had he concentrated enough to fly away.

Harry wasn't happy that Hagrid was involving the headmaster, but there was little that could be done now. Although, the more Harry thought about it, the more the situation had lined up an opportunity for him. He'd be able to ask Dumbledore what had happened that Halloween night, and maybe find out a little bit more about the prophecy. He'd have to be careful asking the questions, as he didn't want the man to learn Harry had been fighting Voldemort and had almost beaten him using special powers. No telling what he would do.

Quickly, Harry made it into the castle and to the gargoyle in question. He gave the password, feeling silly as he did so, and the gargoyle hopped out-of-the-way into a hidden alcove, allowing the stairs it was blocking to come into view. As he walked up the stairs, Harry rehearsed what he was going to say in his head. 'Just say Hagrid told me to tell you that there was a hurt unicorn. That's it. Oh and by the way, what happened to make me an orphan? Tell me about the man who killed my family. Yeah, that will go over well.' Harry was reaching the top of the stairs and still hadn't thought of a decent lead in with his questions. Before he could knock on the surprisingly simple door at the top, he heard the headmaster's voice saying, "Come in, Harry." Harry looked around, but could see no mirrors or anything that would be able to tell the headmaster who was on the stairs. He shrugged. Professor Dumbledore probably did something just to make him seem that much more all-knowing and wise.

Harry stepped into the office, and marveled. If there ever was a place perfectly designed to raise Uncle Vernon's blood pressure to levels where he was in danger of simply popping from the strain, this was it. It was, for want of a better term, cluttered with things of a nature not readily apparent. Oh, there were books, and shelves lined the walls, but what drew the eye was the numerous silver instruments on the many spindly tables scattered seemingly at random throughout the large circular space. Certain ones would spin, others flashed, and still others emitted colored smoke at intervals known only to the head master. Harry desperately wanted to know that they did, and the enchantments necessary to make them work. Above the bookshelves, hundreds of portraits were depicted in various stages of obviously fake sleep. One corpulent wizard snored louder than many others, yet had his eyes quite obviously still open.

Harry, it seemed, was as much on display as any of the objects.

Harry moved into the room from where he stood at the entrance. He could see a large desk, behind which the headmaster sat, sucking on a candy. Off to the side of the desk, near the wall, was the most beautiful bird Harry had ever seen. Its red and gold plumage nearly reached the floor from a three-foot tall stand, and the bird stood a further two and a half. It crooned at Harry, and it was more harmonious than any classical master could ever hope to produce. This, then, must be a phoenix. Everything Harry had read about them said that they were incredibly rare, but would occasionally bond to a good-hearted wizard for reasons known only to them. When the wizard died, the phoenix disappeared, never to be seen again.

"Ah, I see Fawkes has captivated another with his beauty. He will be insufferable for days now." The phoenix in question slowly flapped its wings and gave a gentle trill, but looked away from the Headmaster in a way that could only be interpreted as smug. There must have been some truth to the man's claims, although…

"You can talk to him sir?" Harry had heard they were extremely intelligent animals, possibly more so than humans, but nothing that indicated that they could be conversed with like snakes with a parselmouth.

Dumbledore shook his head, smiling. "No, there are no words. But phoenixes commune through emotions and flashes of memory. I can get a feel for what he is feeling and usually I can guess what he is thinking. He understands me far better than I will ever understand him. What I do know about him is that he is a glut for attention, and would actively encourage you to pet him. Don't be shy."

Harry walked forward, at turns eager and apprehensive. Here was a creature so steeped in magic it was immortal. If he touched the bird, would it sense how different his magic was from say, Dumbledore? Was his magic any different? Could it tell Dumbledore and have the man watch Harry for strange behavior? Fawkes let out a three note trill, and much of Harry's worry eased away. It didn't matter to most of those questions, he realized. This was a creature more mysterious than any he was likely to encounter. If Harry was special to this creature, and had done things it had never heard of, he would be surprised.

Despite the warm feeling, Harry frowned. Were those his thoughts, or the phoenix's? Dumbledore was quick to reassure him. "Phoenixes are not mind readers Harry, but they can sense emotion," he explained. "They also cannot make you feel anything beyond the calming effect of their song and a sympathetic presence. It's not mind control. But please, sit down, and relax. Whatever you have to tell, I'm certain it's not as bad as you might make it out to be."

Harry sat down on the surprisingly comfortable chairs. All the chairs in the headmaster's offices he had been in previously were designed to make the students feel as uncomfortable as possible. This was probably because the teachers expected them to lie otherwise. Harry was certain that while the chairs were different, that aspect of being called up on the carpet was the same. The ancient wizard must have some other method of detecting falsehoods. Harry would have to tread very carefully.

'I'm not sure that's true sir. Hagrid sent me."

Dumbledore frowned. "I thought you were friends with Hagrid. Did you do something to upset him?"

"No sir. We were in the forest together and Hagrid told me to find you. He said to tell you that something in the forest was hurting unicorns. He thought you ought to know. He was going further into the woods to find the hurt thing." Immediately all traces of humor and geniality disappeared. Dumbledore became very serious.

"Harry, I need you to be completely honest with me. What did you see out there?"

Harry took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "Well sir, I was exploring the forest when I noticed something shiny on the ground. I got closer and it looked to be blood. I brought Hagrid out into the woods and he told me you needed to know." There goes the opening salvo. All true, and yet not the whole story.

Dumbledore looked grave. "How far into the woods were you?"

Another part truth. "I'm not sure. I was far enough in that I couldn't see the Hogwarts grounds through the trees. Certainly true, but misleading. In reality Harry was about half a mile in. He wasn't positive and didn't measure, but he didn't venture a guess.

First trap sprung. "If you had to guess," Dammit, thought Harry, "How far in were you?"

"Probably closer to half a mile in." Which of course begs the question…

"What were you doing that far in? The Forbidden Forest is off-limits to students for a reason, Harry." Harry could almost see the headmaster's thoughts on his face 'Poor excuse in five, four, three, two…'

"I was exploring. I've never been to any woods before. For the most part it's pretty nice." Weak response. Both true, but none of his statements were particularly compelling. Harry needed to come up with better excuses in the future. Oh! Practicing flying and dodging! Both true and not at all what people would be thinking!

"Nevertheless Harry, the Forbidden Forest is just that. I'm going to ask you to at least keep yourself closer to the castle when exploring the woods. Do not let the grounds out of your sight. That should be sufficient for a nature walk, at least until you are older and better able to defend yourself." Dumbledore shook his head and refocused. "We've gone off topic slightly. What did you do after finding the blood on the ground? Did you follow it?"

Blast! Now either Harry had to lie or get into more trouble. He knew Dumbledore should probably know that Voldemort was so close, but Harry didn't want to tell the headmaster that he fought the monster. Even though, now that Harry was thinking about it, it was more a matter of luck that he was able to summon the power to manipulate the trees in that way in time. Harry decided to go for broke and tell the truth, it fostered more trust in the long run. Part of the truth anyway.

"Well, I didn't know what I was looking at initially. I saw more of it going deeper into the woods and I followed it. After a while I figured it was blood, because it looked like those blood trails you see on shows on TV, you know-and you wouldn't, obviously, sorry." Dumbledore smiled briefly at this, and then resumed his intent expression. "I figured maybe the unicorn was still alive, and maybe I could help it, get it to Hagrid. The unicorns know Hagrid, right?" At Dumbledore's nod, Harry continued. "Anyway, I wanted to help. But I felt this incredible aura of evil, I don't know of any other way to describe it. I saw the unicorn, dead on the ground and a figure off in the distance. It ran away. I didn't see anything after it ran off."

Dumbledore frowned, then stood up and went to the window behind his desk. The tower looked out into the Forbidden Forest. Without looking at him, Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, I know there are things that you don't want to tell me. Suspicions you might have. I won't ask you now, but I'll wait until Hagrid finds the unicorn's body and tells me what he knows. I implore you in the meantime to think hard and tell me everything you remember about the figure of which you spoke. We need all the information available to us to act, and I can't work as effectively if I am not told everything. Do you understand?"

Harry hung his head. This was worse than disappointing Hagrid. "Yes sir. I'll try and think of anything that I missed." Harry made to leave, but he noticed the title of one of the books on the desk. It simply said, "The Colors of Magic." Normally that wouldn't be enough to grab his attention, but the name of the author was Urza, Planeswalker. This could be what Harry and his friends needed to move ahead! So much of what Harry had done so far had been guesswork based off of what Tewilliger had witnessed Urza doing and the vague tidbits Urza had mentioned in passing. Something written by the being himself would be invaluable!

Dumbledore turned around, and saw Harry looking wide-eyed at the book on his pile of research. He grinned, the whole of his face lighting up with excitement. A huge contrast to the grim mood expressed previously. "Ah, I see you've taken an interest in this book! I had wondered who took that biography out of the library. Fascinating stuff, is it not? I personally haven't been able to make heads or tails of the concepts in this book, and I was hoping the biography might have some phrasing that would make this," he lifted the tome, "easier to understand, but I obviously had no such luck. Did you read it yourself?"

Harry grinned nervously. The jig was up. "It had some of the basics in it. Hermione might be able to tell you more. I couldn't figure out the theory to save my life." Back out now, back out now, maybe he won't ask it…

"Have you had any success-oh! That's why you were in the forest at all, weren't you? You were looking to further your knowledge of green magic. I've heard that Neville Longbottom is a prodigy at Herbology, maybe he could help you on that front?"

" We've already talked to him." Harry volunteered.

"Well I daresay you three are well on your ways to becoming the greatest wizards and witch of your age! Can I ask that you teach what you know once you have more of a handle on things to interested students? I'm sure many will want to try their hands at it." At Harry's quick protests, Dumbledore held up his hand. "This doesn't have to be this year or even before seventh. From everything I've read you've advanced so quickly it's astonishing. In addition, you are much younger than any of the apprentices this Urza has mentioned. I merely wish that you respect that this is a school, and the furthering of knowledge is one of our goals here. I'm sure even the teachers would be interested. I know I certainly would be."

Dumbledore looked to be almost bouncing on his feet. Harry was sure this would end in disaster. Sure enough, a thought occurred to the man and the ancient wizard stilled. "This is why you were so reluctant to tell me about the creature in the woods. You used this other magic on it. You got close enough to strike it! What did it look or sound like?" He became grim. "It spoke to you didn't it? You didn't trust me with this conversation. You didn't think I would tell you the full truth."

Feeling bold, Harry asked, "Was I right?"

Dumbledore sat down heavily. He sighed. "Had you not learned these strange arts, you probably would be. However, you have faced what must have been an adult challenge, and gone beyond what we could possibly teach at this school. As such you have earned the right to be treated as an adult in this instance. But Harry, this is still fresh in your mind, and I can't ask anything more of you today. I will wait for Hagrid to come back and tell me what he knows. Can I ask that you stay safe until after Christmas when we have the rest of this conversation? You are young, and deserve at least one happy Christmas that you can remember. Please, for the sake of an old man, wait for your answers."

Harry gave a sigh of his own. "Fine. I will wait until after Christmas. But on the following day at eight in the morning I will be here, and I expect to be told the whole of the story."

Dumbledore nodded. He looked almost broken now, like telling Harry this much was killing him. Harry wondered if the truth really was worth this kind of pain, but he put those thoughts to the side. He knew there was a prophecy. He knew Voldemort came after baby Harry specifically. What more could there be? "I ask only that I can expect the same of you." He gestured at the book on his desk. "Take this, as a sign of my good faith, and as an early Christmas present. I want to help you Harry. I know of part of your destiny, but the more I learn about you the more I am sure that I know only the tiniest portion of it. Please trust me. I know I can trust you."

Harry nodded jerkily, unable to speak. The raw emotion coming off of this old man was incredible. He gripped the book tightly to himself. Harry looked at Fawkes one more time. The bird gave a mournful call, and looked almost as sad as his companion. Harry rushed out of the office and down the hallway. He couldn't think about whatever Dumbledore had to talk to him about now. He had more of Urza's teachings and he was going to use them to defeat the worst Dark Lord in a century. He could have no distractions from his mission. Here, at last was the key.

To those who think that I've had one to many deus ex machinas, I challenge you to come up with a better solution. This is actually much closer to canon M:TG than anything else than I could come up with, short of just going ahead and dropping in a Gary Stu.


	5. Chapter 5

If anyone wants to beta this story, I would greatly appreciate it

Harry spent most of the night and good portion of the next day reading Urza's book. This was the boost he had been looking for: a clear, almost scientific guide to the magic only hinted at in Renford's book. Here at last Harry could start his research in earnest. This was a sort of spell tome, and the preface of the book said that many of the spells in the book were only there to give ideas! Mana, so the energy Harry had been drawing into himself was called, was capable of nearly anything Harry could put his mind to. It could even bring creatures into being from nothingness, things that would fight for him and help him until he sent them away or they were killed. Harry tried to summon a bird with his blue magic, but he wasn't able to fully complete the visualization. It came into being for a brief second, but it then disappeared. Harry wasn't discouraged though, as he knew he was advancing incredibly quickly, based on Urza's notes. These notes seemed to assume that the people reading them do not access magic on a regular basis, and are unused to the visualization techniques taught at Hogwarts from day one. Harry spent most of the day before Christmas Eve and the next in bed with the curtains drawn reading the book and taking notes. Ron had called him out for dinner, but it was only after Ron physically stormed Harry's bed did Harry realize what time it was.

Harry learned that for the majority of his life he had been living in a white mana-rich environment. The city of Surrey was turned into an artificial plain from the woodlands and grasslands they originally were. Harry had most likely subconsciously absorbed vast amount of mana over the years from his surrounding in Little Whinging. The order and desire to blend in that Harry had internally decried for so many years had turned him into a natural white mana battery, one that he would have trouble using up in a lifetime. That explained, Harry realized with a jolt, why none of what Dudley or his friends did lasted very long. White magic was the basis of natural healing, and the power used to combat and undo the damage that evil might do.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Harry attempted to do a channeling of white magic. He set up silencing charms around his bed, so as not to wake up Ron, and tried to pull to the forefront of his mind the power the book had indicated was inside of him. What he felt shocked him. There was a huge mana drain on his reserves already! Something not part of his mind was leeching energy from him. He had to fix this. He had read about astral projection, now was the time to try and do something similar inside of himself. Harry imagined himself in one of the spaceships he had seen from brief glimpses of Dudley's television programs and exploring himself. He pictured it entering his mind as a physical location. Harry felt a surge of blue magic, and was pleased to see that the impromptu visualization worked. He could see memories and emotions floating around, seemingly at random.

Harry explored his headspace, and saw the streams of mana moving towards the darker portions of his personality. These he kept under lock and key, as he was prone to quiet fits of rage when locked in his cupboard as a child, and usually made for worse punishments. He put those thoughts aside. Here, among his darker thoughts and emotions, Harry found something that wasn't him. Harry wasn't sure what it was he was seeing, but to look at it caused Harry to shudder. It made Harry feel filthy, dirty for looking at it. It felt nothing like the personality surrounding it. It felt like a mental tumor. It was the darkest possible thoughts personified, and it was tainting the personality around it. Harry noticed the longer he waited there studying the piece of filth in his head, the angry and vengeful parts of his personality gained strength from the ambient white and blue magic surrounding his mental ship-probe. He had to act fast.

Harry sent a lance of pure white magic, purifying energy, straight at the taint. It was to burn away the infection. It worked, but the pain it caused Harry was worse than anything he had ever felt in his short life, worse than the time Vernon took the belt to Harry's back and 'forgot' he wasn't supposed to use the buckle. Gritting mental teeth, Harry strengthened the flow of mana to the problem spot. Slowly, the infection in his mind was burnt out, but the damage was done. Harry could see that the parts of his personality that were affected by the taint were stronger due to the white magic used. He would have to watch his temper more closely than ever now. Exhausted, Harry fell asleep. Unseen by Harry, in the real world his scar began to ooze a brackish liquid, and a faint scream was heard despite the silencing charms. Ron, oblivious, snored on.

Harry's Christmas at Hogwarts was the best that Harry could remember. The previous holiday, Harry had to get up at five in the morning to prepare a feast for breakfast that he was only allowed scraps of. The only gift he got that year was the wire coat hanger that Uncle Vernon said should have been his mother's eleven years ago. Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but even Aunt Petunia thought the joke was in horrible taste, and she took Uncle Vernon into the kitchen and closed the door. Harry couldn't hear what was said, but after Uncle Vernon was more prone to ignore his nephew, and refused to look Harry in the eye when he did pay attention to him.

There was nothing similar this year. Harry was able to sleep in to a decadent ten in the morning, and woke to find a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Ron was already awake, ripping apart the wrapping paper with abandon. Ron was staying at the school because his family was going to visit his brother Charlie in Romania, and Ron was not enthusiastic about going to someplace even colder than Scotland in the winter. The twins George and Fred elected to stay and keep him company, and their older brother Percy had to stay because he was a prefect. Unlike his brothers, Percy stayed in his dorm the majority of Christmas Eve, spending very little time with his family. He was dragged out of his room by his twin brothers, who tried to involve Harry in family activities. Harry appreciated it, but still felt like an outsider watching Ron play chess and joke around with his brothers.

He resolved to redouble his research on returning his parents from the dead.

Harry waited until Ron was out of the dorm before opening his presents. This was a private moment, the first time he had presents worth having. He received some sugar-free candy and a letter from Hermione. The letter was liberally splattered with ink, demonstrating her excitement at finally breaking her mental block on mana based magic. She was able to levitate books to her while she was researching her notes at home, and, like she anticipated, she did not receive a warning from the Ministry. Her parents were understandably excited by her success, but Hermione expressed frustration at their inability to understand how momentous an achievement this was. She felt that she was losing touch with her parents, and that they would never be able to understand her. Harry sympathized, but he always knew no matter what the Dursley's would never understand him, and he hadn't let it bother him in a long time.

Neville sent him an advanced plant guide. He also sent news about his mana-magic. When Neville entered the greenhouse at his manor, the plants actually turned to him and grew at a visible rate. Even, the more dangerous plants in his greenhouse were as gentle as they could be: his specimen of Devil's Snare was positively playful, hiding his garden shears as he attempted to prune the Venomous Tentactula. He felt that actively using mana wouldn't be that far away, and Harry was inclined to agree.

The last gift was a cloak that belonged to his father. The unsigned note that came with it said simply that it had been left in someone's possession before the attack, and to use the cloak well. Harry was confused, until he put on the cloak and noticed that he could no longer see his body underneath the cloak. Obviously, this came from someone unfamiliar with his powers, as he did not need a cloak to become invisible. The thought was appreciated, and Harry would do anything for something that would connect him to his lost parents.

Harry was beginning to feel burnt out with all that happened last night, so he allowed himself to enjoy Christmas day and Christmas Dinner with the Weasleys and the faculty. Ron was challenged by Professor McGonagall of all people to a game of chess, and the game was amazing to watch. Ron had a lot of natural talent for the game and had some practice against different opponents, but the Transfiguration professor had been playing for decades, and had picked up strategies that Ron would not hear of for years. She then proceeded to take Ron's carefully built-up strategies and rip them apart. She utterly demolished him, and when Ron finally knocked over his king in checkmate, every student in Gryffindor tower was watching and cheering. The twins ran a betting pool, and cleaned up by betting McGonagall would win, but not until after Ron had taken all but two pawns and a rook. Harry refused to participate, simply allowing himself to enjoy watching the game. He did notice that Percy was nowhere to be found as the game wrapped up.

The next day, Harry was as promised outside the Headmaster's office at eight in the morning exactly. He wanted to know more about this prophecy, what Dumbledore and Voldemort each knew and the conclusions they drew. He wondered how widespread the knowledge of a prophecy was, and if his mana-magic was the reason why Harry survived that night. Answers only the headmaster could provide.

Dumbledore came to the door himself and ushered Harry into the room. This time Fawkes was looking a little under the weather, and his plumage was losing its luster. He asked Dumbledore, "Is it just me or did Fawkes look better when I was here a few days ago?"

"Yes, an unfortunate aspect of time, everything loses its beauty. Unlike most of us, Fawkes will be able to get that back. You see, phoenixes go through cycles of death and rebirth. He's on the way towards his burning day, where he will burn himself up and turn himself back into an egg, which will then hatch in the heat of his death. He will then soon grow into the beautiful bird you saw when you first came to my office." At Harry's astonished look, Dumbledore chuckled. "This is something that cannot be avoided. Death comes for us all, Fawkes is just luckier than most as he is able to avoid death being permanent. But as fascinating as this is, it is not why you came here." Dumbledore moved to a carved stone bowl, with many runes inscribed around the rim and the interior of the curve. In it there was what looked like a cloud of gas, swirling and moving without any discernible impetus.

"Do you know what this is, Harry?" At his negative, Dumbledore continued. "This is a pensieve, a device which allows me to look over memories and view them from a different perspective. I find that as I age, my mind become more and more full and cluttered. I'm sure you know what that's like."

Harry had no idea what that was like, but felt the storytelling was a form of stalling. "Is your memory of hearing the prophecy in there? Was it made to you?"

Dumbledore smiled and continued telling his story. "I was interviewing an applicant for the post of Divination Professor. Personally I was inclined to let the subject die out at Hogwarts. I was never impressed at the value of the subject, and while true seers are rare, the prophecies they give are sufficiently vague that they could be applicable in any number of instances. However, the applicant in question was the great-great-granddaughter of an accomplished seer, and so I was obliged to hear her out. She did not impress me, and I was set to deny her when she went into a trance and spoke these words." Dumbledore took his wand and swirled the cloud-like substance. An image appeared, that of a woman with large glasses, dressed in an expensive shawl with hair that made Hermione's look tame. Another prod, and the image began to speak.

"_The one destined to fight the darkness approaches. Born to those who thrice defied the Dark Lord, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hands of the other, for one must die for the world to survive…The one destined to fight the darkness approaches…"_

Harry swallowed and sat down. Rage and hate built up in him at the thought of being forced to rid the world of monster that killed his parents, but he held his temper in check. He knew what he thought of this, but he needed to hear another perspective. "What do you think it means Professor? Does it mean that I have to fight Voldemort?"

"I'm afraid it does, Harry. This prophecy is very clear about that. You were born on the last day of July, to parents who had fought Voldemort and lived on three separate occasions. Voldemort knows nothing of this mana magic, and likely would disregard it as a useless fancy. But I'm afraid there is more than that."

"What do you mean, Professor? I have to kill Voldemort, as the world can't survive with both of us in it, and only I can kill him. What else is there?"

"My dear boy, I'm afraid that fighting the Dark Lord is only the beginning. The prophecy says '_the one destined to fight the darkness,' _not the Dark Lord, as Voldemort is known. I'm afraid that there is another threat out there, one that will make your fight with the darkest wizard of the age seem like child's play. I think that once you kill Voldemort, and I have no doubt that you will, your troubles will just start."

Harry leapt from his chair and began to pace around the room. Dumbledore watched him with sadness in his eyes. "Why me, Professor? All I want is to be left alone, to just learn and be just like everyone else. What makes me so special?" He punctuated this last question with an open handed slap to the table. Hate seemed to flow through him, and Harry fought for calm.

"You ask me why you? I can think of no one better. Few stand before me with the self-assurance that you possess. You know your self-worth, and despite my station and whatever might have been thrown at you in life you instinctively see yourself as my equal. I happen to agree. You are a leader born Harry, and your fight is coming. What makes you special? I ask you to look at the desk you hit without thought."

Harry looked, and jumped back. Before hitting it, it showed none of the rot or disease that was now present. As he watched, the desk sagged under the weight of the small silver device, and finally collapsed. The desk fell in a heap, and Harry could see the silver of the device begin to tarnish.

"Everything in this room is spelled to last through the ages. That particular desk has lasted since the fourteenth century. No," here he held up a hand, "don't apologize. You've just demonstrated your ability to wield power beyond anything I can fathom, and I am with good reason considered to be one of the greatest wizards of the age. I can't do what you have done with as little effort as you have just shown me. No one alive can, at least that I know of. You will win against Voldemort, of that I have no doubt. I only worry about the vague darkness mentioned. I just hope your fight against that will be as straightforward as your fight against Voldemort."

Harry nodded, placated. He wasn't happy about being forced to confront that thing in the woods again. He would have done it before, but now he was being forced to do it, and that just rankled. But he understood what Dumbledore was saying about the power that 'the Dark Lord knew not.' Here he could make a difference, and he would need to make sure he was never as powerless as he was in the Forbidden Forest. "If I'm to fight a Dark Lord and who knows what else, I'm going to need weapons. I'm going to need complete access to the Restricted Section and the library as a whole. Mana magic is great and powerful, but it needs ideas. I need to know can be done before I can think about what I will do."

Dumbledore did not look like he liked that idea but he agreed. "So be it. I even offer up my personal library as the Headmaster. There are tomes here that you will not find anywhere else. I ask only two things. One, that you promise never to use your knowledge on a student, even Mr. Malfoy. What you are about to have at your fingertips is power that can corrupt you completely. You may turn out to be worse than the man who robbed you of your parents. Second, I ask that you come to me, and we will organize meditation exercises that will make it harder to hurt you, with spells or words. Those are my terms."

Harry smiled a grim smile. Dumbledore was almost afraid of what Harry would be able to do. He should be. "Deal. I may have to do something, some kind of demonstration that would make it so people know not to cross me. Maybe an exhibition duel? I heard that Professor Flitwick was a master dueler back in his youth. Maybe he could set up a dueling club? That way people are aware of the force I could bring down on them."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I cannot condone frightening the students just so they will know not to bully you. It is likely you will need to win their loyalty, and such loyalty cannot be won through fear. I am afraid that this darkness may require the full might of our world to combat it. We cannot afford to alienate people, no matter how much we may want to hex them."

"You're really that worried about this darkness?" Harry asked. It seemed that Dumbledore was more worried about this than the darkest wizard of the age.

"It was mentioned in the same breath as Voldemort. We must respect that. Worse, we know nothing about it. Until we know more, we must assume the worst."

"Fine Professor, I will respect your decision. But we will have to begin training as soon as possible. We have two dark lords to prepare for. One is within spitting distance of the castle if he is not inside already. The other we know nothing about. We need to prepare for anything."

At the same time, deep in the castle, a redhead was moving towards a room that had seen very few students over the years. It was out of the way and down a corridor known only to the prefects who patrolled the area and the teachers who did the same. Percy had been trying to get away from his brother for days, and finally got his chance early in the morning while they were asleep.

Percy had always been ambitious. He wanted to outshine all of his brothers. He wanted to excel in school, but Percy would never find school to be as Bill had. He wanted to be popular, but when the twins arrived everyone thought they were better than Percy in that regard. And Percy would never be as good at Quidditch as his brother Charlie. Even Ron was making waves, for although he wasn't nearly as good at school as Percy or Bill, he was still able to make friends and excel in his own right. Plus, Ginny was looking to be a very powerful and beautiful witch. Percy had no friends, second best grades in the family, and was of middling power.

But he had ambition.

Percy entered the abandoned classroom and shut the door. The room was left alone, just as he had ordered the house elves. He locked the door with the most powerful locking charm he knew, and placed a notice-me-not charm on it for good measure.

It wouldn't do to have someone walk in on this.

Percy finished with the door, and then walked to the circle drawn in chalk in the center of the room. He lit one of the candles on stands just outside the circle. Without doing anything else, the rest of the dozens of candles scattered in geometric precision around the room lit. They were in concentric circles, centered on a metal bowl inside the circle where Percy was disrobing. Marks on the prefect's skin showed where Percy had cut himself to provide blood for the bowl in the stand in front of him. As he knelt, naked, he picked up the knife from beside the bowl and cut a deep line along his arm with practiced ease. Drops fell into the bowl, where they hissed and spattered with a strange, eldritch heat. As he pressed his hand to his arm, a chime was heard, a perfect sound that had no name in this world. Once Percy heard that, he relaxed. It meant his entreaty would be heard.

He began to chant, low at first, then gathering volume. "Hear me, o perfect creator, from your most imperfect servant. Hear me, o merciful creator, from a servant that deserves no mercy. Hear me, o beautiful creator, from this ugly and rotten servant of the flesh. Hear me, Yawgmoth! Hear me, o perfect creator, as your servant waits for instruction!"

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then a pressure began to fill the air, like the pressure of a mind so large as to be unfathomable. The barest fraction of this being's will was enough to press the student to the floor, but Percy was not afraid. Instead, he was elated. This was equivalent to a personal visit from the god Himself. Previously when Percy had enacted this ritual a favored servant of the god had come, but not Percy could speak to the object of his worship directly. A thought not his own came to the forefront of his mind. _Speak_, it thundered in his head.

"My lord, I have done as instructed. I have placed wardstones around this school, preventing the children from accessing the mana. When the time comes to harvest this world, you will find no resistance from the magical world. The muggle world is out of my hands, but your priests tell me there will be no trouble on that front. I await new orders, so that I may continue to serve." Blood trickled out the left ear, but Percy paid it no heed. This was pain in service of the master. This was joyous sacrament.

The next order forced him to the floor fully, blood gushing from his nose. _Recruit. There must be more_. Percy then felt the mind leave him, and he felt bereft. However, his place was not to question the lord of his mind and soul. His was only to obey.

The blood left the bowl as if down some invisible drain. Percy put his robes back on, hissing at the pain in his arm. The wound would not heal through magic, he had tried before. There was something about the blade that prevented it. It was no matter. He would eventually be rid of this imperfect form, and he would have a place beside the priests when the time came to cleanse his world and make every being in it complete. Then they would finally transcend the imperfections of the flesh.

And Percy would be at the forefront, first among his brothers.

In the meantime, his God's will was to be done. He would start with the silly girl Clearwater. She had a crush on him, and it would be easy to convince her to come down to the secret room, where she would hear the voice, and understand the word.

He couldn't wait until school started up again.


	6. Chapter 6

If anyone familiar with canon mtg wants to talk about the history of it, I would really appreciate getting my facts and plotlines straight. It has been a long time since reading the books and comics.

Also, I was listening to some music and rereading something I wrote in this chapter and the two lined up quite well. If you feel you read quickly and want to try it out, line up the song when I give the cue in the middle of the description. Or don't. I'm a fanfic writer, not a cop.

Harry had never read a more complex book, but he had to hand it to this Urza fellow, he really knew his stuff. The writings about the theory of mana were going over his head at every point, but the practical instructions helped him immensely. Harry would never have thought of having so many spells that he wouldn't be able to remember them. He was glad that the meditation down by the lake helped order his mind and allowed him to keep track of all he was learning. He also found that whenever he went inside his mind to create a new spell or access an old one, very little time passed in the real world.

The students had been back from the holidays for a few days, and Harry was finding it harder and harder to study and train without getting interrupted and interrogated by the Gryffindors or the teachers. The Head Librarian, Madam Pince, had looked down her nose at Harry when he gave her Dumbledore's slip for unrestricted access to the Restricted Section, and she had asked, "What good can come of giving such horrible books to a first year?" Harry had shrugged, and nodded his head at the slip without answering her. With nothing forthcoming she merely sniffed and waved her wand over Harry's head. Harry was then able to take whatever he wanted out of the Library, and made much use of the private study area that the Headmaster's office had become. Frequently Harry had gone over concepts and theories with the headmaster that even Hermione wasn't able to match, much to her dismay. She then begged Harry to ask Dumbledore to give her a similar permission slip, but Harry felt that the rest of the library should be enough for her for now.

It was a Friday when Harry was taking a rare study break to rest his eyes. He was practicing using white magic to heal the pain in his face when he heard a voice.

"Allow for total relaxation, and the blue mana will speed up your thought processes. You will find that your thoughts are more in tune with the power you wield, and you will be closer to the land from which you gather your power. Blimey, Harry, what are you reading?" Ron's voice snapped Harry out of a trance in which he was ordering the wand spells he had learned from the library and the spells he had learned on his own and from Urza's book. The backlash from the unused mana caused Harry's eyes to flash, and Harry grabbed his head in pain.

"Argh, warn me next time you come up on me unexpected Ron. It's rude otherwise." Harry grimaced. Here was something Harry had been hoping to avoid. He didn't want to have to explain what he was doing to anyone, least of all Ron. His rejection at the beginning of November had hurt him, and Harry felt he had been forced to choose between his first friend and the chance to meet his parents. He noticed Ron and the other boys watching him, but he never thought much of it.

Ron, having decided he wanted nothing to do with Harry's extra studies back in November, was feeling left behind as he noticed Harry, Hermione and Neville become closer. He noticed that Harry never seemed to study but always managed to do whatever spell they were practicing in class perfectly on the first try. He even saw that Harry's potion grades were skyrocketing, and Malfoy couldn't get under his skin. Harry had changed, and most would say for the better, but Ron had liked Harry from the first time they talked, and didn't want to give up his friend to these strange books Harry always seemed to be reading. After all, it couldn't be that hard, right? They were only first years.

What he saw almost made his eyes cross. Spell theory and what looked like math beyond what Bill had brought home as study material for his NEWTS swam before his eyes, and he could barely make heads or tails of it. But Harry seemed to be eating the stuff right up! Even worse, Harry seemed to be spending hours in the headmaster's office, at least according to the twins, but he never seemed to get in trouble. Dumbledore had once stopped Harry in the middle of the hallways between classes and asked Harry a question about something called mana and whether or not the strength of the spell could be amplified by adding more of it. Harry then answered that that only worked with certain spells, and then proceeded to give a list of when it was appropriate. Imagine that, Dumbledore asking a first year a theoretical question and getting a complex answer. More than that, the teachers seemed to be treating Harry as an equal, following Dumbledore's lead.

What he had seen had made him intensely curious and jealous, but more of the former than the latter. Ron resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Harry was prepared to blow Ron off and give him a simple answer, but then he had a thought. Urza was talking about certain moods and personality types having a better affinity for certain types of magic. Red mages in particular were supposedly ruled by their tempers and emotions. Ron, brash and impetuous, fit the red mage stereotype to a tee. Hermione was progressing nicely, but she was having trouble with spells outside of levitating some books and creating gusts of wind that caused frost to appear on Harry's glasses. Maybe teaching somebody new would help him teach others. After all, what worked for Harry clearly was not working for Neville or Hermione.

"It's that stuff you didn't want to learn way back when. It's actually really interesting."

"I'm sure it is. It's all I see you doing these days, you and Hermione and Neville. What are you doing?"

"It's like I told you before, it's a new type of magic. One that doesn't require wands. We've had some success, but I want to try something new. You want to help out?"

Ron was nervous, having been the subject of many a prank by the twins that started with the question, "Want to help us out?" But Harry was a friend, and this might be the only chance to mend fences. "Sure Harry, what do I have to do?"

"First bit's real easy. All you have to do is follow me on my broom."

"But Harry, I don't have a broom! How am I supposed to follow you without a broom? And where would be going that we need a broom?"

"Ron, I said you'll be on my broom, following me. As for the rest, well you'll see."

Ron followed Harry down to the Quidditch Pitch, talking about the latest match between the Chudley Cannons and their opponent, the Appleby Arrows. Of course the Cannons lost, but this time they only had two injuries grievous enough they had to replace the players, instead of five last year. By the time they reached the locker where the brooms were stored, Ron was unable to hold his curiosity at bay.

"So who's broom are you going to borrow? I don't think you know the twins well enough to borrow theirs, they won't even let me use it when we're back at the Burrow."

Harry turned back to Ron and grinned. Once Ron had the Nimbus in hand, Harry pulled the mana to him and floated off the ground. With his madcap grin firmly in place, Harry answered, "I don't need one. Catch me if you can!" and with that he took off towards the Forbidden Forest. Ron, after closing his mouth, gave a whoop and chased after him.

Ron had to push the broom to catch up with Harry as he flew over the trees. Ron could see Harry was heading towards the mountains surrounding the lake and the Hogwarts grounds. There was a thunderstorm getting caught on the other side of the range, and it was causing a brisk headwind making it difficult to steer the broom. Harry, turning to see Ron struggling, moved to help him and set his friend down on an exposed escarpment. He floated while Ron caught his breath

"THAT'S SO WICKED! HOW?! How are you doing that? NOBODY can do that! Not even Dumbledore knows how to do that I think! Is this what you and the others have been doing this whole time? Can they fly too? Can you teach me?"

Harry laughed, feeling freer than he had been in a long time, maybe even his whole life. It felt so good telling someone his secret; it felt like the secret was a weight pressing down on him in the castle that made it hard to breathe. He was as excited as Ron, but tried to hide it to seem cooler in Ron's eyes. "Calm down Ron, I can't answer your questions if you don't stop asking them. You sort of sound like Hermione right there."

Ron frowned briefly. "You take that back." Soon after, though, the grin returned to his face. This was too cool to stay mad. How could Harry hide something like this for so long? Wait. "How long have you been able to do this?"

"I've been able to fly like this since before Christmas Eve. I call this magic mana-based magic. It's wandless, and I'm able been able to do things like I've never heard of before. I had my first breakthrough with this stuff that day of 'accidental magic' with Malfoy. He was the key I needed to get things moving. Since then I've been experimenting with nature magic, called green magic, and healing magic, called white magic. I want to try fire magic tonight. That's why we're up in the mountains. I can make us warm, but only if I learn to access the power up here."

"What are you talking about, power? I thought all magic came from a wand?"

"Well, first off that's very wrong. How would we be able to do accidental magic as children if we could only do magic with a wand? That's the basis of this discipline. Magic exists in us, and the wands merely act as a focus. Without the wand as a crutch, we are able to do so much more."

"Then why are you in any of the classes? Why bother if what you're doing is so special?" Ron was hurt that Harry thought the classes Ron was struggling so hard in were a waste of time and energy. But Harry clearly knew what he was talking about. If it meant that Harry could teach him to fly without a broom, Ron was all ears.

"A couple of reasons. First, I need to learn all I can. The blue magic is affecting me, I feel like I need to learn constantly and absorb knew knowledge. I'm sure that it's affecting my personality too, but I can't bring myself to care. In addition, going to class and reading what wands can do gives me ideas for the mana-magic. I can't direct the power if I don't have ideas on how to do it. Finally, I want to be around kids my age. If I threw myself into studying this magic, I would never be a kid. I would be working all the time. Classes are like my goof off time."

"Okay, I can see that." Ron really couldn't, but he wasn't going to argue. Where does going to class to do more work get fun? "So what are we doing up here out in this storm?"

"Well, this magic comes from five different land sources. There are swamps, plains, forests, islands and…Mountains! Tada!" Harry made a gesture towards the bare rock face like he was showing it off to a crowd. Ron smiled in spite of himself. "I haven't really gotten red mountain magic down yet, and I was here for a crash course. You're here for the same thing. I'm going to teach you to shoot lightning from your fingertips." Harry grew serious for a moment. "I need you to promise me something. I need you to swear to me that you'll only use what I teach you to defend yourself against legitimate threats like the troll. I don't want to hear you went off and used this on Malfoy because he had a go at your mum. I get it, she's a sweet lady, and she doesn't deserve to be made fun of. But if you use this to hurt people who aren't truly hurting others, then we have a problem. I'm not sure what I'd do in that situation, but I know I don't want to find out. Can I trust you?"

Ron was a little upset at the idea that he was untrustworthy, but the more he thought about it he realized this power was likely to be abused. And, in all probability, Ron was likely to be the first person who would fly off the handle and use this stuff for dangerous purposes. He had been warned by his mum that his temper would get him in trouble. While this would be a big temptation, Harry really seemed to have grown up while using this magic. Maybe all Ron needs is an outlet. And Ron always wanted to shine from under his brothers…

"Alright Harry, I'm in. So what do we need to do? Dark rituals? Blood sacrifice?" Ron joked, but he was a little worried about the process by which Harry got his powers. If it was easy, people would have done it before, right?

"Nothing like that Ron. All we have to do tonight is observe. I sent a message to McGonagall on the way out here before we hit the broom shed that you and I were not planning on coming back under Sunday, so we have plenty of time. First, I want you to look at the storm. See the lightning flash and imagine the heat. Feel the wind and rain on your face, and feel the strength of it, the power behind it. Feel the stone surrounding us, and concentrate on the forces required to form this mountain and the other around us. We're magical being Ron. Manipulating this kind of energy is in our nature, I'm realizing. Allow yourself to reach the proper frame of mind, and you'll be able to do wonders with the magic you find there."

Harry began to turn and walk through the woods. He held up a hand, and a ball of blue light began to shine above his head. He turned back to Ron. "Take the broom and wander through the woods. Try and do what I said. I want you to feel the strength of the mountain. It will be a warm, strong feeling. Don't worry if you don't get it right away, just keep trying. If you think where your thoughts are going are silly, stop, take a deep breath and refocus. Treat this like a chess match for your life. We have no shelter or ways of keeping warm, we have to learn this to stay safe. Try and stick to areas where the mountain itself shines through. Focus on clearings where you can see erosion and rock. If there is a rock slide, so much the better. And try to get to the top of the mountain. I want us to get in the middle of this storm!" Harry then disappeared into the night, leaving Ron to himself.

Ron started wandering around the bare cliff face he had landed on. He ran a hand down the rough stone, feeling where the mountain had thrust up this huge boulder that was bigger than his dad's car. He could see at least three different types of rocks in the dirt by his shoe, and could tell that most of it was little bits of the big rock his hand was resting on. Lightning flashed, and Ron saw swirling patterns in the rocks.

"Alright, Weasley, time to focus. Harry said something about feeling the energy. Feel the strength of this place. What the hell's that supposed to mean? God this is stupid, Harry's having me on…No, Harry said if I lost my thread of thought, I was to try and get it back." He paced for a little bit, trying to get his thoughts back before the lightning strike. He passed another, smaller boulder. "Okay, strength of Earth, strength of Earth. I just need to feel the strength of the Earth and the mountain. Can't be too hard. Who am I kidding?" Lightning flashed again, closer this time, twice in rapid succession. Ron's ear began to hurt from the noise. "Where's this energy? How the bloody hell am I supposed to feel it? What does it feel like?" Lightning crashed again, closer than before. Ron lost his temper. "GODSBLASTIT How am I supposed to concentrate with all this noise!?" Enraged like never before, he went back to the smaller boulder, lifted the two ton rock over his head and chucked it over fifty feet. Ron, briefly satisfied, went to go back to pacing. He stopped after a second, once he realized what he had done.

"Bloody hell, I did it! I did it!" Ron jumped up in the air, pumping his fist.

"Well done Ron! Not even I could get this stuff down this quickly! I just came back to give you this light so you don't hit yourself in the dark, and I saw you chuck that rock. You got this power down in less than twenty minutes. That's brilliant, that is!" Harry was grinning at his first friend, finally able to see what he was so excited about for so long. "Come here mate, I want to try something, and I want you there to see it."

Harry began to lead Ron back to a cave higher up the mountain, where a small fire was burning merrily. "I was able to get the fire going using magic, but I came up here yesterday and spent most of the day going back and forth between walking around and meditating on the top of the mountain. I was able to use the red magic, but not nearly as fast as you! What were you thinking that made you so angry?"

Ron smiled sheepishly. "I was getting pissy and I wanted the lightning to shut up. I couldn't think with all of that noise."

"Well it worked. Anyway, I wanted to try a summoning. I needed a base fire to start. So I took some of the energy and turned it into flame. You want to go out and get some more kindling? I want to get this fire a little bigger before I get started." Ron did as Harry asked, still high off of his success. He grabbed a couple small branches and ran back to the cave, falling only once along the way. When he went to put the kindling in the fire, Harry stopped him. "No, Ron, I want you to start a new fire, and we'll add it to this one. Think about how you lifted up that boulder. You couldn't do that without mana. Try and remember that feeling, that rush of power you had before you lifted up the rock. Concentrate on that." Ron screwed up his face in effort. It looked like he really needed to use the bathroom. Harry was going to tell him that only as a last resort. Wouldn't do for Ron to get angry with him unnecessarily. "Now focus that energy into the image of a flame, feel the heat of it, the desire to be warm- too much." Harry fought to keep from laughing as the kindling burst into flames, showering Ron in sparks. Fortunately, Ron dropped the sticks before he could hurt himself, and they fell near the fire like Harry wanted.

Teasing, Harry said, "Next time Ron, you can wish a little less hard." He got a punch on the arm for that, but Ron was plenty happy with what he had done so far. Harry then turned his attention to the fire. "Okay, so I was reading in that book I got from Dumbledore about summoning creatures. Sometimes they need a little bit of convincing to come when you call them, and I was hoping we could keep other from getting hurt while we subdue it. Even if we kill it, I'll remember it being weaker than us, and I can create a copy that has the same personality but for the fact that it will listen to us.

"Okay, so what are we summoning?"

"It's called a fire imp. From what I read, it's very simple. We push the mana into the fire, and we imagine the fire and the mana taking shape. It should look like an ugly little goblin with a bigger nose and ears. I'll start, then you try and we go from there. Maybe we could get a bunch of creatures to answer to us tonight. Then we could go back to the school and sleep in a bed after all!" harry was eager to get started. Ever since his encounter in the Forbidden Forest with Voldemort, he had been looking at ways to make fighting the madman easier. The only reason Harry was still alive was because he had managed to animate the tree to fight for him, not because of any mastery of spells. Harry needed to learn how to fight, and he had a feeling that one would come sooner rather than later.

Harry turned to the fire and began to mutter under his breath. "Okay, so we just pour mana into the fire and we get a creature. Simple, right? Here goes nothing." He closed his eyes and visualized the energy of the storm and the mountain around him. He directed his will towards the fire, imagining the flames becoming solid and turning into a…

"Woah that is an ugly bugger mate, make no mistake. Looks kind of like a house elf with smaller eyes." The goblinoid creature sneered at Ron, then turned and bowed to Harry.

"I await your command sir. Whom should I kill? Please tell me I get to kill this loudmouth!"

Harry stiffened. He would not let the success of his first summoning allow him to lose control of the creature. "You will do no such thing. You follow his orders as if they were my own. Do you understand?"

The snarky git rolled his eyes, but nodded his agreement. Harry directed him to stand off to the side, so they could continue to work. Harry summoned a goblin warrior, and a small animated rock pile. The last one was interesting, as Harry wasn't sure that it was capable of understanding orders or that it was even bound. Ron was still trying to organize the mana so that it would do as he commanded, but was having trouble. Harry, taking a rest, sat with his back towards the rear of the cave. He watched Ron meditate and try and summon his own creatures. It hit Harry that this was something that his parents probably never did and would never do. Harry felt a profound sense of loss with the thought that he would never know for sure whether or not his parents were proud of him and all he was doing. He thought they might be, but what if his mom was like Petunia? What if she only wanted a normal boy? Harry's eyes stung, and he bowed his head, feeling the grief of his lost parents. Harry felt soon after a cold weight like a hand resting on his shoulder. Though there was no warm in the touch, Harry drew comfort from the gesture.

(Midnight Hands, by Rise Against)

Suddenly Ron opened his eyes. They were glowing red from the amount of mana Ron had drawn into himself. Harry, frightened for his friend, screamed, "Ron! Direct it out! Into the fire!" Ron, straining with effort waved his hands at the dimming embers. With a boom that blasted the mountain cave apart, the fire grew a thousand-fold. Flames higher than the gates of the castle exploded over the mountaintop. Harry grabbed Ron, who was limp from the strain and flew away before the flames could hurt them. Harry flew himself and his friend to a neighboring mountain, and looked back at the damage Ron had down by accident. The peak of the mountain was gone, transformed into a caldera of molten lava. Fires raged across the mountain side, and Harry could see figures made of flame walking amidst them.

A deafening cry made Harry return his attention to the remains of the peak. From the magma an enormous winged bird-beast raised its head. Its long neck moved to and fro, and it stretched its crimson wings that seemed to span the width of the sky. This, Harry knew, was a Crimson Hellkite, a creature of pure elemental fire and fury. It roared again, and Harry covered his ears in pain. Ron had put more effort into that summoning spell than Harry had with any of his spell to date. That was the only way such a creature could be brought into being.

Harry could see more of the mountainside going up in flames, and he knew he had to act fast. They were some distance away from the castle, but the Hellkite could travel that in minutes. More, if Harry could defeat the winged beast but left the fires for too long, they would spread, killing who knows how many denizens of the Forbidden Forest and possibly driving towards Hogwarts. Harry froze. He wasn't sure what to do.

Suddenly, Harry felt again like someone was touching his shoulder. He looked up and up, and saw one of the scariest things he had seen in his short life. There was a woman behind him, dressed in black, with a large blocky black scythe and a hood that covered her hair. Her eyes were covered by a purple bandanna. The woman had two arms and three hands, one arm splitting at the elbow to grip the scythe at the haft and the other branch covered by a cestus. The fingernails visible were inches long and blood-red. A palpable aura of despair and woe surrounded her, and Harry felt a blackness on his soul as he looked at her.

If this was not an avatar of death itself, Harry didn't think he would ever meet it.

Without opening her eyes, the being spoke. "Calm child master. I am here to help you." She looked at the destruction being wrought on the mountainside. The Hellkite, fortunately, didn't seem inclined to leave its bath of molten lava, but that could change at any moment. "We shall destroy these fire elementals, and you will bind them to you. Then they shall serve you until your dying day."

Harry, happy he wasn't about to get his head chopped off, still was worried about the task ahead of him. "How am I supposed to bind them to me?"

The Avatar of Woe spun her weapon, and slammed it into the ground. Her eyes still closed, she spoke again. "By defeating them, of course. Make your way there. I will stick to the shadows, and wait for the opportune moment to strike." She blurred, and disappeared into the night.

Harry grumbled, "Sure, she gets the easy job. Why bother summoning creatures if they refuse to fight for you?" harry put deeds to words, and summoned the fire imp and the goblin again. He told them, "Watch over Ron. Call if anything takes notice of you." With that he set off to the nearest conflagration. He had an idea.

_Aguamenti_ was a fairly simple spell. It produced a small burst of water from a wand. If one were to try extra hard to produce that water, it turned into a decently powerful jet of water.

But what if it was mana-amplified? Harry was about to find out.

Harry flew down and started drawing the power of the lake into himself. He kept drawing it in until he felt a pressure in his eyes. When that happened, he called out the spell as loud as he could. Blasts of water flew from his hands, stronger than that of a fire hose. The water rushed out and doused the flames surrounding him, but Harry could see a figure wreathed in flames coming closer that was not affected. This being looked like a naked woman made entirely of fire, a voluptuous figure with a devilish smile. She seemed to revel in the destruction she and the others had caused, and she was not happy that Harry was here to quite literally rain on her parade.

For a moment they stared at each other, watching for weakness. Water dripped down Harry's face from the mists he had created putting out the fires. With a cry, the elemental attacked, lunging at Harry. Her arm elongated until it was like a lance of flame, and she charged at the young wizard. Harry allowed the fire to arc over his shoulder, and struck back, with a blast of his own water from his hands striking the creature in the face. She screamed and hissed, and withdrew from Harry, but Harry did not let up. He brought both hands towards the fire elemental, and watched as she screamed and writhed with obvious pain. He did not let up, and soon the thing was still. Harry panted. That took a lot more out of him than he thought it would.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Harry looked up. In front of him there were 4 more elementals. These did not look the least bit playful. They looked very angry. One of them spoke.

"All she ever wanted was to be herself. You surely know what that is like. We can feel your righteous anger, your rage at being mistreated. She was just like you. And you killed her. Murderer." Harry moved to defend himself.

Pain wracked Harry as they managed to get their fire off before he could strike. The very air he breathed burnt his lungs, and the skin on his body felt like it was melting off. The flames stopped coming, but the pain continued. Harry screamed, and he desperately reached for the white mana that he knew would be able to heal him. Pain made it hard to concentrate, and the mana left his grasp more than once before he could use the power to heal himself. Slowly, Harry could feel the flesh reform. The pain receded, and Harry could again think. Once he was whole, he turned back to where the elementals had been standing. At least, where they were before.

The avatar was back, and Harry was glad she said she was on his side, because he did not want to stand against her. She moved like a whirling dervish, flashing metal and spinning limbs. Despite being made completely of flames, when she made a cut the limb fell as if it were flesh and blood, and they fell like mortal women. They tried to strike her, but she was never where their flames landed. Within a few moments, the clearing was free of enemies, and the smoking avatar moved towards Harry with a distinct strut in her step.

"I told you young master, I would wait for the opportune moment to strike. You did quite well drawing their attention. You will do well with me at your side. The way you handled the lone elemental was worthy of a master elementalist, not an eleven year old boy. I will follow you to the end of your days. You are worthy of being the master of Woe." Then she did the scariest thing yet, and smiled a gentle smile at him. It was a nice gesture, but very unsettling.

"Come master. The fires must be put out, then I will show you how to handle the Hellkite. Draw the water into a wind directed at the base of the flames, and the fires will be defeated." Harry, tired but game, put whatever blue magic he had left into a wet wind that covered the mountain. He even pulled the dying thunderstorm over the mountain, and dumped whatever water that was left in those clouds into his spell. It took some time, and Harry was again made nervous by the bellowing of the creature at the top of the mountain, but the fires were put out. Now for the big guy.

Merlin, Harry hoped she had a good idea, because Harry was fresh out.

Apparently she did. The avatar slammed her staff into the ground so that it stood upright. She then walked over to Harry and took his left hand in the two of her own. Harry felt a tingle, then an itch, then a burn. She released his hand, and Harry watched as first the palm, then the whole of his hand became sable black. He went to touch it.

"Touch your hand to anything other than your foe, and whatever you touch will die a very painful death. You must strike it with that hand, then step back. The magic will take care of the rest." She said all of this in a matter of fact tone of voice, as if discussing the weather. Harry was reminded of the table in Dumbledore's office. He was about to do it again, but on purpose. This was Dark magic with a capital D, and Harry wasn't sure it was a good thing to be using it.

The Hellkite roared again. Harry steeled himself. This one time was okay, but he couldn't make using this power a habit.

Harry summoned his flight power again, and made his way quickly to the top of the mountain. The magma was still red hot, and it burned his eyes to look anywhere but his foe. The Hellkite spotted him, and sent a huge jet of flame towards the small figure in the sky. Harry dodged, and the creature decided to send another his way. This one Harry had to dodge much faster than he did before, and some of the magma came uncomfortably close to brushing him. Once Harry got within 500 yards of the beast, it took to the sky, splashing the caldera and sending a backdraft towards Harry that nearly unseated him from the air. Looking up, Harry could see the path of the beast would take it straight over Hogwarts, and it was probably too much to hope that it would ignore the tempting target it made. Harry surged forward, flying faster than he did in a dive in Quidditch, and raced to the neck of the creature. It turned its long neck towards this flying pest and prepared to let out another huge breath. Harry wouldn't be able to dodge this one. Instead he moved straight at the beast, which was over the lake and about halfway to the school. Harry used the Hellkite itself as cover, and got close enough to brush his hand to the chest of the creature. The blackness on Harry's hand receded, leaving healthy flesh. The Hellkite, however, was not so lucky. Upon touch, the skin and smooth flesh of the Hellkite became pockmarked and sickly, losing the crimson color and becoming first gray, then black. This process raced across the skin of the beast, until the whole thing was a rotting decaying mass. The wings began to tear, and the creature could no longer maintain flight. It crashed towards the ground with a low moan, and upon impact the entire creature was reduced to black ash.

Harry promptly dubbed this handy new ability the deathtouch.

Harry turned around and headed back to where he left Ron. The creatures he had summoned were loyal to Harry, but Ron needed help, more than they could give them. But when Harry landed, the imp and the goblin were gone, and Ron looked none the worse for the wear. Ron stood up after Harry reached him, shook his hand and ruefully stated, "I think I'm going to need a bit more practice with this stuff." Harry pursed his lips and nodded. Hard to argue against.


	7. Chapter 7

This will be the last chapter I post until aft next Wednesday the 16th, as it is crunch time for finals and I will have four essays due between now and then. Wish me luck everyone!

Also, in case anyone has been counting, this chapter was nearly double the last one, which was the longest chapter to date. Let me know if you guys prefer shorter or longer chapters. As always, not beta'd

Ron wasn't able to summon any creatures that night, or the next morning. However, he was able to levitate and throw rocks, and before they headed back on Sunday morning Ron was very proficient at creating and manipulating fire. One time, he almost managed to throw a lightning bolt at Harry, but that was only after Harry had goaded him about not being very good at mana magic. The air was saturated with static electricity, but Ron was ultimately unable to do anything with it.

"Ron, you need to stop worrying. You have this down pat. You're a natural. I wasn't able to do this kind of stuff for weeks after finding out about it. Neville still can't do anything like we've managed so far. Just relax, you'll get it sooner rather than later." Harry was getting a little tired of stroking Ron's ego. Despite Ron's success, he was still intimidated by the power that Harry seemed to wield easily.

"Easy for you to say. You're the one pulling miracles out from your sleeves like it was nothing. You killed a bird dragon thing with a touch! I woke up for that part. You saved the whole school and they don't even know it!"

"And they're not going to, right Ron?" Ron looked away from Harry's green gaze. "Right Ron?" Harry emphasized Ron's name again, like he had heard Molly Weasley say it on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. No one could know that this magic could get to be that dangerous. If the teachers got wind of it, Harry would have to give it up, and he might leave the school and go back to the Dursleys before doing that.

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. But it would be something drastic like that.

Harry wanted to get better at summoning before heading back to school, so he left Ron on Saturday afternoon to practice his fire-throwing. The two of them were getting to the point where he was creating knives and swords made of fire, but Ron wanted, as Harry had said when they arrived, to throw lightning bolts from his hands.

Harry headed off into the Forbidden Forest covering the mountain. The destruction wrought by the fire and the elementals had barely cooled, but Harry could see evidence that this was not the first time the mountaintop had been bathed in fire. He could see old dead burnt branches further into the treeline, and Harry realized that this was a cycle, how the fire of the mountain's energy led to a rebirth of the forest. He saw how these two very different lands were connected, and wondered if this was true for all or just them.

Harry recalled a lesson from Urza's book. Urza said that magic was change, in its very essence. Maybe this was what he meant. He passed a meadow in the forest, and noticed that this meadow, a source of white magic, had a copse of trees in its center. He wondered how many centuries before the whole of the meadow was absorbed into the forest. He could feel the power in the transformation, and wondered if the energy was any different from the green magic he pulled from the Forbidden Forest in his fight with Voldemort. He pulled the mana to him, and noticed it was a mix of white and green magic. Harry wondered what other combinations there were out there.

The mana was starting to burn a hole in Harry's mindscape. He tried to picture a large animal, like a moose or a stag, to burn off the excess energy, when he saw a squirrel. Instantly Harry thought of another squirrel to play with it. This did not burn up much energy, and Harry was unable to think of anything other than squirrels. Without thinking, Harry created an entire army of squirrels, one large enough to fill the clearing the size of a football field. Harry laughed at the image, and that drew the squirrels' attention from each other directly to him. Suddenly the idea of thousands of squirrels wasn't so funny to him, and Harry decided this would actually be a fairly effective way of subduing opponents. The thousands of eyes and the gleaming teeth of the rat-like creatures was unnerving, and Harry was sure while the image of Voldemort being buried under a flood of squirrels was indeed a funny one, it was no less an effective weapon, and unbeatable for sheer psychological edge.

Harry, his thoughts beginning to turn grim, headed deeper into the forest. Now that Voldemort was definitely back and Harry knew that he was destined to fight the older wizard, Harry felt the study of mana had become merely a search for weapons. Harry had never been as good at something like he was at this. He wanted to explore it. Harry wanted to understand this strange and exciting concept. He wanted to live his life not having to look over his shoulder scared of what Voldemort might bring against him. He had heard that Voldemort had followers that bribed their way out of Azkaban, the wizard's prison. How could he defeat the darkest wizard of the age and his army by himself? How could he keep them down if there was a government that allowed itself to be bribed by mass murderers? Why would he even want to?

Because it would be the right thing to do. Blast if that wasn't always going to be a problem

Unnoticed by Harry, he was being followed. Many somethings clicked and clattered their way to him, and the dying light reflected on more eyes than would be found on a wolf.

Harry reached another knot of trees, and decided this would be a good time to try and summon that tree-creature again. He pulled mana into himself as he thought about that night with the unicorn. He never got a good look at it, but it looked like a tree with the face of an old man embedded into the bark of the trunk. The face had a beard made of moss, the face twists in the bark, the eyes knotholes…

A skittering sound made him halt in his visualization. Realizing he would not have enough time, he directed the mental energy to the trees around him and began to pull the mana from the mountain to combat this new threat. From nothingness a flaming sword emerged and attached itself to Harry's right hand. His other hand crackled with electricity that was eager to be released. Harry was briefly surprised that whenever he was in a fix mana and spells seemed to come naturally to him, but he had no time to think about it. At least a dozen spiders the size of large dogs were moving through the woods around him, and Harry needed to thin out their numbers.

Harry thrust his sword forward, and a lance of flames erupted from it towards the nearest arachnid. Harry found the elemental's spell was easy to cast and didn't take up much energy. It certainly was effective, as the acromantula found out. It made a brief shriek as it was immolated, but that was all. Still eleven more to go.

The next one wasn't going to wait for Harry to come to it. It jumped the width of the twenty foot distance between the opponents and made to impale Harry on its fangs. Harry was ready though, as he made a slicing motion that cut the creature from thorax to abdomen. The two halves twitched as they fell around Harry. Ten more.

This is when things got surreal.

Apparently when Harry was summoning mana he was more successful than he thought. When a trio of acromantulas tried to circle around Harry to attack him from behind, they did not anticipate the trees coming to his defense. At least four tree-folk came to Harry's defense, ripping up their root in their zeal to squash these bugs. Hearing the commotion behind him, Harry turned away his enemies in front of him to see a tree-man take a boulder that was unearthed by the tentacle-like roots and heft it into its branches. It then slammed the rock down so hard that spider guts landed fifteen feet away on Harry's shoes. Another two took a spider into their branches, then pulled the poor creature in half. Body fluids rained down on the roots of the tree-folk, probably enriching the soil. The last tree-folk and the last acromantula squared off. The spider attempted to jump past the tree to get to Harry, but the tree was able to swat it out of the air and knocked it off into the darkness. From the squelching sounds it made when it landed, something broke. Harry turned back to the seven remaining spiders.

He had turned back just in time. In the two seconds that Harry took to make sure he wasn't going to be attacked from behind, a spider came forward and almost bit him. Harry took his sword and chopped one of the offending spider's fangs. It screeched, and Harry had to grab his ears at the sound it made before it popped something. It retreated.

Harry could see the six remaining spiders. They were all advancing slowly in unison. Harry needed something big to take them out. He imagined a bomb made out of destructive red mana placed in the middle of the group of eight-legged creatures. Harry pumped mana into it until the object in his mind's eye was pulsing with power. He then released it.

The blast sent him flying backwards into the trunk of one of his mobile trees. Maybe there a little too much power there. That was three, there were still three fully intact spiders and the one whose fang Harry chopped off.

Insomuch as Harry could tell, the remaining opponents were having a hard time deciding what to do next. Harry, beginning to tire, sent a bolt of lightning at one of the spiders, but it missed. The raw empty feeling of overusing mana began to eat at him. Harry was feeling tapped out. While he might have been a white mana battery, he was mostly using his red offensive magic, and needed more practice pulling the right amount of power into himself so as not to overtax his abilities.

That lightning bolt, however, was enough to scare the arachnids into retreating. Evidently Harry was a meal they would only be able to eat in greater numbers. The defanged one stood on its hind four legs and chittered something in its language at Harry, then turned around and disappeared into the blackness. Harry was too tired to do anything other than lift a finger at the display. He flopped to the ground in the middle of his tree-folk, and went to fall asleep. He'd talk to Ron in a couple of hours.

Before he fell completely asleep, Harry saw one of the tree-folk learn over to another and whisper. It was the pair of trees who had ripped the acromantula apart. His last thought before sleeping was the idea that, "Maybe they were complaining about spider guts in their roots."

He would have been interested to learn that the actual conversation was very different.

"Is this the one who will awaken the mana in this world? This is the second time I have been called to protect him." Spoke one.

"This must be the one. None since the gemmed one have been able to make us walk with the fleshlings," said another.

The first tree grunted, an interesting sound for a creature with no diaphragm or lungs. "He's going to need to get better at defending himself. He has power and the will to use it, but he lack discipline. He needs to be more mindful of his surroundings."

"That much is clear Ras, but that is not for us to teach him or even say. We must do as he asks, and only that until the gemmed one returns. That young one has a task in front of him, and I wonder if it will break the poor sapling."

"Saplings can be bent, but they will then grow crooked. This one must grow straight and true. He will need something to lean on to keep him on the straight growth. I hope he has found it, or he will be as big a threat as the evil one shall be."

"Even then, our cause is his, and so we will follow him until he no longer has need of us. But neither day is near, and the sapling's heart, for now, remains pure. There will be no more talk of this. Rest must be had now." And with that, the trees were silent and unmoving as the rest of the Forest.

Harry awoke in near complete darkness. He could hear Ron calling for him, and the cries were tinged with desperation. Harry felt within himself and that he was able to summon the energy for flight. He pulled his wand from where it frequented rested these days, up one of his long sleeves. He cast a sonorous charm on himself and sounded out, "I'm here Ron! I'm fine, just knackered." Harry heard Ron yelp as he was startled, and realized Ron was closer than he thought. Harry cast a spell of flight on himself, and cleared the tree line to look for his friend. Ron, relieved, sped over to Harry on Harry's Nimbus. Harry patted his friend on the shoulder and said, "Let's head back to the campsite. Even after that nap I'm still tired. We'll head back to the castle in the morning. Did you make any more progress?"

Ron moaned. "I've been looking for you for ages! I saw flashes and booms from where I saw you head into the woods, and the first thing you say to me is, 'Have you been practicing?' I swear you're worse than McGonagall or Hermione."

Harry laughed. "You take that back," echoing the first conversation they had upon coming out here. "And my question still stands. I left you to practice. If you want to hear about my adventures with squirrels or my fight with a dozen giant spiders I can now summon up whenever I want, it will have to wait until after you've told me what progress you've made. We didn't come out here for our health. For some reason, it's easier to summon mana out in the woods. Don't waste our time here."

Ron grumped, but eventually admitted that after Harry had left Ron had played on Harry's Nimbus. Once Ron had heard the echoes of the battle, he had gone looking, but the woods and the canyons of the mountain made it difficult to figure out where the sound was coming from. Ron had been looking for about an hour before Harry had woken up.

Harry figured that Ron was unlikely to work on this power by himself. Whether it was because he didn't care or because Harry's presence made it easier for the red-headed boy was unclear to Harry, but Harry was inclined to believe that it was the latter. Harry was a white mana battery, and Hermione was unable to move beyond what she was first able to do when she got home without Harry there helping her and leading her through. Once she was able to reach a new plateau of understanding, though, Hermione was able to completely blow Harry away with her grasp of concepts. She was able to talk theory with Dumbledore for hours on end. Harry was no slouch when it came to intellectual exercises, especially now that he was saturated with blue magic. That magic was specifically associated with scholastic intelligence and research, which made it perfect for Hermione. However, Harry didn't care as much as the headmaster and his female friend as to why and how mana worked. Harry was far more concerned with what he could do, and how to do more next time.

Since Ron was unlikely to try and learn on his own, Harry decided to spend the time they had left catching up with his first friend. Harry found that Ron was bored with Dean and Seamus. "All they want to do is argue about stupid things, like which girls have the best legs or is the most likely to give it up. What the hell is that supposed to even mean? We aren't supposed to even think about girls for a couple of years yet. What would they even know what to do with a girl anyway? Seamus said that Parvati was up for a quick gobbler anytime. He's lying through his teeth, probably, right?"

Harry nodded and smiled at the appropriate places in Ron's stories, even adding grunts of dismay at Ron's tales of pranks played on the group of friends by other students. Harry however was having as hard a time relating to Ron as Ron was to Dean and Seamus. Harry had never thought of girls like that. Of course, the only girls he had any experience with were Hermione, the Chaser girls and the teachers. He barely even knew who Parvati was, and he wasn't sure he could pick this Lavender out of a line up without her Gryffindor tie. He realized that this research, while interesting, made him an unintentional outcast. He would have to do something to fix that in the near future. He came to this school hoping he'd be like everyone else. Now that that option was clearly out the window, he might as well try and make friends while being different.

Harry and Ron decided that the only reason they might want to stay out on the mountain in the cave would be to avoid Neville's snoring in the dorms, and after Harry's tale of the spiders Ron was able to convince Harry to return to the castle. Thus, they headed back to Hogwarts in high spirits. While nothing of the weekend had gone like either one had planned, they both felt their time was better spent for it. They were closer, they had any number of new tricks up their sleeves, and they had a whole day and night to relax.

Unfortunately, some of the other students had other plans.

As the two of them made it to the Quidditch pitch, they could see a large number of black-robed students spread out over the grounds. Harry and Ron could see the groups were looking in the deeper remaining drifts of snow, looking for something. Oddly, they could see no teachers helping, as search this size had to be official.

Harry and Ron circled around to the Quidditch pitch to drop off the Nimbus and sneak into the castle away from the hubbub, but it was not to be. As they reached the entrance hall, it seemed the entire Quidditch team plus Dean and Seamus appeared out of nowhere and accosted them. There was a great deal of yelling, most of it unintelligible, and there wasn't a teacher in sight to help. The commotion finally calmed down enough for the twins to be able to shout, "WHERE WERE YOU?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron finally responded, "We were in the forest. Near the mountains. Why?"

The twins seemed to puff up at this, and Wood stepped in before they could kill their brother. Katie moved forward during the confusion and asked the pair, "And you didn't let anyone know where you were going? You missed practice and no one could find you anywhere! It's only 6 weeks before the next match against Hufflepuff! We thought the snakes took you out of the running!"

Harry was confused. "I cleared this with McGonagall. Didn't anyone ask her where we went? Or any of the other teachers? They all know I have permission to leave the grounds at any time."

Sheepish looks were cast about. It was clear to Harry that they did indeed ask the Transfiguration Professor, but they hadn't believed her. Ron, though, had more immediate concerns. "Nobody told mum, right?" Nobody looked at him. "Right?" his voice squeaked.

Either Fred or George spoke up. "We may have sent a letter asking her if you were at the Burrow sick with something contagious when we couldn't find you. You weren't even with a mile of the castle mate."

Ron groaned. He knew he was going to catch hell for this with his mum. He was lucky if she would only send a howler. She might even come to the school to yell at him in person.

Harry was struck by a thought. "How did you know we weren't in the castle? What made you look for us? We were only gone one night."

Seamus answered this one. "We wanted to talk to Ron about something in class. I didn't want to have to go to McGonagall to hear it again, and Ron managed to get the spell to work. I was hoping he'd be able to explain it." No one believed this for a minute, but that was his story and he was sticking to it. He probably wanted Ron to convince the twins to help with a prank, but he wasn't going to tell them that.

Harry had had only one of his three questions actually answered and the last one was a lie. He was starting to get annoyed. "So why was it that Fred and George were so sure we weren't in the castle?" He gave his teammates an extra hard glare. They wilted, but remained silent. "Am I going to get an answer sometime this century?" Even the rest of the students looked at the twins curiously. Harry shook his head. "Fine. Don't answer. I'll just force it out of you later. Now why wasn't anyone listening to McGonagall when she told you not to worry?" All the other students looked behind Harry.

"Because, Mr. Potter, I could truthfully say I had no idea where you had gone or when you would be back. All you did was say that you and the youngest Weasley would be out of the castle for a time and I quote 'not to worry.'" She gave an imperious sniff. "Really, Mr. Potter when a student says something like that all a teacher can do is worry. I know you have certain extracurricular activities, but involving Mr. Weasley here was not part of the plan, and we heard an awful noise last night from the forest. I feared the worst."

Ron grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah that was my fault. Sorry."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I take it, Mr. Potter, that Mr. Weasley here is now part of your extra studies as well?"

Harry answered, "That's up to him, Professor. I can't make do extra studies if he doesn't want to."

"I want to!"

"Then you're going to have to do well in everything else in order to keep up your eligibility. I expect your grades to be as good if not better than they were before. Now, curfew is approaching, and you all should return to Gryffindor tower. Mr. Potter, stay behind please."

The larger group sulked off. Harry could already hear Seamus pestering Ron to tell them what he and Harry were doing in the Forest. Ron had been sworn to secrecy, but Harry wondered what Ron would tell in place of the truth. Harry waited in the entrance hall, expecting to be told off.

Surprisingly, nothing of the sort happened. "The headmaster wishes to see you. Something about a theoretical question he hopes you might have an answer to."

Harry wasn't too surprised, but he was annoyed that he had to deal with Dumbledore's curiosity right now. He was hoping to talk to Hermione about heading further away from the castle with her. He was hoping that she might have better luck like Ron did accessing mana deeper on the grounds. He shrugged. There was always next weekend.

Harry made his way to the Headmaster's Tower, pausing to make a face at Filch and to wave to Hagrid in the distance. He gave the usual candy password ("Mars Bars," at Harry's insistence) and made his way past the gargoyle and up the stairs. He didn't have time to knock before his name was called, and Harry once again wondered how it was the headmaster always knew who was on the stairs. He swore he would find something in mana magic that would let him see magic and enchantments.

Harry entered the spacious office where he could see Hermione petting Fawkes. At the same time she was leafing through a tome about two feet wide, a foot tall, a foot wide and bound in metal plates. He didn't look up as Harry entered. Harry didn't mind, he was used to this from her. Dumbledore, on the other hand, stood up and greeted Harry very enthusiastically. "Harry, my boy, how are you? Was your trip successful for young Mr. Weasley?"

Harry smiled at the enthusiasm the ancient wizard was showing. One would think it was he who was learning a new style of magic, but Harry was able to reign in his amusement. Hermione had scolded him the last time he had laughed in the elderly man's face after asking too many questions. Dumbledore took in stride, and was not perturbed. In fact, he was more amused at himself and then at Hermione's reaction than anything else.

"It went well, Professor. Ron is a natural. That passage you found about magical temperaments is what made me include him in the first place. Ron was able to lift a two ton boulder within ten minutes of learning that one does not need a wand to work magic. He was even able to work with and create fire before we left."

Dumbledore beamed at this, while Hermione looked disgruntled. While she was proficient at creating gales and ice, she really hadn't progressed much beyond the stage she was at when she got home for the holiday. Levitating books is useful, but Harry seemed to be able to do whatever he wanted, and Hermione wasn't used to this jealous feeling.

"Ahh, that's good. But what was that explosion I heard last night? I could have sworn I saw something fly over the lake…" Dumbledore was fishing. Harry decided to tell him what happened. Better that he be prepared for an incident than to be caught off guard.

"Ron accidentally summoned a creature that was too powerful to control. I managed to use some black magic and destroyed it. The good news is I got a couple of very powerful creatures out of the experience, so I can use them in dire circumstances." Hermione was slightly distraught. She had never managed a summoning, and she had very little direct control over her mana magic. She was able to cast NEWT level spells, but she wanted to do the impossible like Harry seemed to be able to do on a regular basis.

Harry noticed Hermione's quiet distress, and turned to her. "Hermione, I know you've been having trouble with this, but I think it's the magic. I have an idea. Tell me, how many books have you read?"

"978," she answered promptly.

"What's the square root of the product of the two smallest prime integers?"

"2.449489." Now Hermione frowned.

"What are the average grades of the last 7 sets of Prefects and Head Students?"

"The trend has a decline in the number and quality of NEWT grades. The highest grades went from eight outstanding NEWTS with Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as electives, to six exceeds expectations NEWTS with Muggle Studies or Care of Magical Creatures as electives." Now Hermione was excited. She knew where this was going. Dumbledore was still ruminating over the declining grades of his supposedly best students.

"Do you think you could have possibly been able to answer all those questions without being able to access blue magic?" Harry asked his friend triumphantly.

"No! So this means I'm already using the magic to make my mind that much more powerful! I could take whatever electives I want here! I could have the highest grades ever recorded! Oh this is wonderful!" Hermione looked ready to bounce out her seat.

"Now it's time to ask a hypothetical. If someone who has never been able to use a type of mana magic, changes locations and suddenly can, what does that mean? Assume instruction and processes are the same." Harry sank into a chair, elbows on knees with an intent expression.

Hermione thought for a moment, her brow scrunched up, when her face cleared and understanding shown on her face. "You mean you think that someone is blocking the people her from accessing mana? Who would do such a thing? For what purpose? How would they know what to do?" Hermione realized that each question she asked had no answer, at least for the moment.

Harry shook his head. "It's kind of worrying to know that not only is someone aware of mana, block is able to block the connection to the land. The why is obvious. Someone thinks that mana magic is dangerous for his or her plans, and doesn't want anyone to use it. That person must think that wand magic will be easier to control, and that person would be right. The entire world uses one type of magic, and most people know how to prepare for and counter it. This mana magic is either very new or very old. My money is on old. Lands have been changing for millennia, and it must have been a pretty clever ruse to convince every single magic user on the planet to switch to a wand."

Harry stood up and began to pace. His audience, young and old, was thinking hard about what he had said. If what he said was true, then everything they knew about magical history would have been based on a lie. "I think everybody at this school would be able to use mana. I think it's part of what makes us magical. I think Urza was right, and that it's silly to think that magic is based on a wand. The magic comes from us, and the wands just focus them. This may be a magic even Muggles can do. If this darkness that I'm supposed to fight is the reason, then that means I might have to recruit the whole of the wizarding world, maybe even the Muggle world, to fight it." He sat down. "Or we could just be blowing smoke. It could be just that proximity to the students is what's causing the interference. Who knows?"

Hermione was confused. She had not heard the prophecy. "Darkness? What darkness? What are you talking about?" but nobody answered her.

Dumbledore nodded at his student. "Those are some very good deductions Harry. While we may not know what the prophecy means for some time, I think it may be best to act as if the darker option were true. We must begin to look for objects that may be able to block the drawing of mana. While I have no idea what those may be, we can develop spells that allow us to see enchanted objects, and possibly their function. Hermione, you and I will be working on this in your time off from classes." Here he turned to Harry and Hermione. "I want you to continue working with mana, but I do not want you neglect your studies in wand magic. I want to keep your ability to use it a secret for as long as possible, and it is a poor workman who neglects a technique because one way is easier than another. Keep studying in the library. If it comes down to you, I want you, Harry, to try and defeat Voldemort using wand magic. If he is the lesser threat, and the greater one is watching, there is no need to broadcast your abilities."

Harry and Dumbledore both would be interested to know what was happening deep in the dungeons of the castle. There, Percy was leading another, a young Muggleborn witch named Penelope Clearwater, to a darkened corridor to do things that teenagers are wont to do. At least, that's what Penelope thought. Percy had something a little different in mind.

Penelope was a shy girl, and she had a crush on the quietest Weasley. She could tell that the boy was both intelligent and ambitious, but he was also quite cute, and he was a pureblood who never made her feel like less of a witch because of her heritage.

"Where are we going, Percy? Couldn't we have just gone to the Astronomy Tower?" She was starting to get a little nervous. Percy would never hurt her like that, so he must just be looking for someplace out of the way, right?

"That's the easiest way to get caught in this school. I swear Filch likes to take his lunch breaks up there and watch the children make their way to the top. Then he just camps at the bottom for them to come back. I'm sure he just has a stack of premade detention slips. No, this is much better. Trust me."

"I do trust you. It's just, where are we going? I've never been this deep into the castle before. Are we almost there?" She didn't like this part of the castle. When she did patrols near here she always felt there was something watching her. Here, deeper into the section, that feeling was magnified.

"It's this room here. Trust me, nobody will find us here." Why did that sentence make her fear for a moment rather than excite her? She shook her head. Percy was always a perfect gentleman. He would never take advantage of her like that.

Percy led her into the room, then turned around and started setting up privacy spells and a locking charm on the door. That left Penelope to admire the décor of the room. She noticed the many candles, the knife on the floor, the bloodstains. Everything in her said she should leave, get away, get help…

But there was a presence in the room. One that held her captive off to the side of the room where she stood. She wanted to get away, but something held her there, stilling her feet.

Percy moved to the center of the room, disrobing on the way. Penelope, in her many moments of fancy deep in the night, had wondered about the shape and texture of his body. For the most part, her thoughts had been pretty accurate, but she never would have been able to guess about the many slash marks and cuts on his skin. As she watched, Percy added another mark to the skin on his arm. The blood dripped into the bowl, where it hissed and spat. Penelope shuddered as the presence seemed to grow closer. She heard Percy chant.

"Hear me, o perfect creator, from your most imperfect servant. Hear me, o merciful creator, from a servant that deserves no mercy. Hear me, o beautiful creator, from this ugly and rotten servant of the flesh. Hear me, Yawgmoth! Hear me, o perfect creator, as your servant waits for instruction!"

A chime sounded. With all her heart she was hoping this was just a dream. She hoped that this was a sick game that Percy dreamed up. But when that dark presence that she felt since she reached the corridor suddenly surged in her mind and forced her to grab her head in her hands, she knew that the rest of her life had been a dream. This was the only that was real in her existence. The she heard it.

_Child_

The force of that single word brought her to her knees in pain, but all of a sudden that meant nothing to her. The sound of that single word was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. She would do anything to have it look on her with favor. She would rather die than disappoint it. It was her new god, her whole reason for being. Blood dripped from her nose onto her uniform, but such trivialities were unimportant. The voice was talking again.

_Prepare the chamber. Allow her to ascend_

As soon as she heard it the voice left her. She felt bereft. Despite the pain she wanted to hear the world of her new Master from morning to night. She looked at Percy, and saw he too wished to prostrate himself in devotion to the Voice. Reluctantly, Percy stood up. He moved and touched a stone, then another. He moved in a complicated pattern, seemingly playing an enormous piano, and when he finished there was another chime.

The stone wall opposite her slid away, as if on greased rails. The moving wall revealed a hallway sinking deeper into the castle. Her fear and reticence gone now, Clearwater stood and almost rushed to the gap, pausing only to help Percy put on his robes. She asked him, breathless, "What's going to happen next?" Her eyes were dilated in her excitement, and she almost dragged Percy with her to the door. Percy only smirked in response.

"You'll see. This is what I was shown when I first pledged myself to him." How different he had been then. Filled with the dreams of being Minister of Magic, Percy strove to be the best prefect possible. Exploring the deepest parts of Hogwarts to find miscreants, he found this place, and the master found a willing servant. Now Percy's dreams were a little different.

Percy and Clearwater walked down the hallway. It didn't look like the rest of the castle, and it looked like it was hewn from the bedrock rather than built with stone like the rest. Clearwater and Percy paid no attention to the décor. Their eyes were fixed at the end of the tunnel, where they could just make out a grotto. This was a natural formation, formed eons before Hogwarts. The two agents could feel the power of the chamber, and quickened their steps. They entered the cave, and saw two things. The chamber was dominated by a sunken pool filled with a liquid that pulsed and moved without outside impetus. The other main feature of the chamber was further back from the entrance. A dais, seemingly grown from the rock, backed itself onto the wall of the cave. Drawn on the walls was a perfect circle, with the edge just barely resting on the top of the raised platform. Lines, drawn with geometric precision radiated outward from the dais on the floor and the wall. Strange words and symbols were etched into the rim of the circle, ones that would hurt the eyes the longer one looked at them. There was a console made of stone and crystal off to the side, where it was out of the way of the path to the dais. There were more of those symbols on the face of the console, and an eye could catch the crystals and words glowing with their own light.

Percy and Clearwater paid no mind to the other object in the room. Their minds were captured by the liquid in the middle of the room. Percy, moving silently, disrobed his fellow prefect. Clearwater helped, but could not contain her curiosity. "What is that?"

"That, my dear, is glistening oil. It is the fountain of youth. All imperfections, all blemishes, physical and mental are washed away. Enjoy this. I have been here only once, and my reward for helping you see the light today is to bathe with you. Clearwater turned to Percy. He had shed the robe he had hastily put on in the summoning chamber. He too stood naked. Her eyes moved over his body. Where once she would have gasped in dismay at the many scars from cuts and slashes on his skin, she could only admire his devotion to the Master. She hoped that one day the master would allow her to show her devotion to Him in such a way. She let Percy enter the pool of liquid first. As she watched the scars washed away, leaving smooth skin in their wake. Percy seemed stronger as well. He stood taller, and held himself straighter. Clearwater sunk her body step by step into the pool, and as she walked into deeper levels she felt a joy and pleasure she had never felt before in her short life. No experience was quite like this, and it felt better than those quiet nights in the dorm room when everyone else was asleep when she would whisper Percy's name. If nothing else, she loved her new Master for this, and she would do whatever it took to feel this again.

"Drink it. Take it into you and completely accept it. Bathe yourself inside and out with it. Begin your path to become the perfect servant to our Lord!"

Clearwater cupped her hands in the oil, and brought it to her lips. Drops fell from her hands, and she noticed the scar she had from the time she cut her hand in Potions class was gone, like it had never happened. She wondered what this oil would do to her if she drank it. The more she pondered it, the more the need to find out grew inside of her. She lifted her head back and poured the oil down her throat. Instantly she felt a burning sensation. It was washing away the impurities of her flesh, making her into the most perfect servant she could be. She closed her eyes, and felt her body start to change. The smell of the glistening oil filled her nostrils, and the burning continued.

Life after the incident after the holidays continued as normal as possible for a school for magic. Ron was blasted the next morning by a Howler from his mother, but a letter sent home explained the situation. This didn't stop the Slytherins from making fun of the boy, but Ron was able to hold his temper. The Gryffindors won their game against Hufflepuff in less than five minutes, despite all the fouls called on the lions by the referee, Severus Snape. Objective bystanders would have been impressed at the sheer number of things he supposedly would have been able to see and called the Gryffindors on. But after that, there was little of note. After months of trying, Hermione finally overcame her block on the mana magic when Harry took her to the other side of the lake from the school.

"I don't like this Harry! I really, really don't like heights! I hate them!" Hermione clutched Harry's Nimbus 2000 in a death grip while Harry himself guided the broom to a safe place to settle down for the day. This time, he thought things out ahead of time, and told McGonagall a general idea of where they were going. He then let others, including Neville and Ron, plus the other students she was tutoring in various subjects that she wasn't going to be available this early April weekend, and no they were not allowed to come along and ask her questions, she had her own work to get done. They both were dressed for the warm day, in t-shirts and jeans. Harry of course was wearing hand-me-downs from Dudley, so it was a little big, but Harry had been wearing it for years, and was finally growing into it.

Harry chuckled to himself, very quietly so his friend couldn't hear him and decide he was making fun of her. Despite being able to fight back with red mana magic, Harry was reluctant to get on the girl's bad side. Even at twelve, she was a remarkably formidable witch, and the purpose of this trip was to make her more so.

Harry wasn't sure what they would be focusing on this trip. He knew Hermione was most comfortable with blue mana, and this was the greatest source of it in easy reach. "Blue magic is the source of my flying powers. It's a really easy spell. Maybe when you're done here today, you'll be able to fly without a broom too! Oi, don't be like that," He said as Hermione closed her eyes in fright, "There's nothing to be scared of. This spell takes practically nothing to cast, or to maintain. I can snap this spell off in the middle of a firefight, and I did last time Ron and I went out into the woods to try summoning again." Ron had summoned another pair of fire elementals. Ron needed to take them out himself, otherwise Ron wouldn't be able to summon them and have them fight for him when the time came. Harry had the snatch Ron out of the line of fire before he was roasted. Ron was eventually able to pull the fire away from the elementals and suffocate them, but it was a near thing.

Harry continued, "It seems to me that the best way to pull mana to fuel these powers is to be in situations when we most need them. Hermione, I don't want you to be mad, but we may have to do something similar." Hermione looked frightened at that, but she didn't respond. Harry privately thought she might throw up if she opened her mouth again. Luckily, they reached a spot where Harry felt would be far enough from the castle to easily draw on mana. He set Hermione down on the banks of the lake, where she leapt off the broom and hugged herself.

"I really didn't like doing that." She said quietly. Harry lost all mirth he might have felt at his friend's plight, and became serious for her sake. He knew the best way to get her mind off of things that might upset her was to teach her something new. He straightened up, and went into his best lecture mode voice. Having heard Hermione and Dumbledore, he felt he had learned from the best.

"As you know, blue magic is based on the powers of water. At its base, blue magic focuses on sea dwelling animals and many birds. Urza mentions it also focuses on the mind, as a mind can be calm and peaceful, turbulent and choppy or a mixture, all with depths unknowable at first glance. Blue magic users, Urza says, are the best researchers and teachers, as the essence of blue magic is knowledge of the unknown. You, Hermione, are both of those people, and you are the best at learning things in this school." He paced as he said all of this, affecting a lofty, scholarly tone. By the end of Harry's short speech, Hermione was giggling at the image he presented. Harry smiled. Mission accomplished.

Hermione sighed, after giving Harry one last smile. "You're so patient with me. I tried to ask Ron what he had done that was so different and he nearly bit my head off trying to explain it. It might have been the way that worked for him, but it would never have worked for me." She frowned. "Neville still can't actively work with mana, but we know that the energy is powering his spells and abilities. You're the only one I can go to for advice about this stuff, and you make it look effortless! It's frustrating." She huffed.

Harry knew he couldn't laugh. If he laughed she would pull out a hex from some ancient Defense book and nail him someplace where it would do the most damage. "Well, that's why we're here, right? To see what works best for you. We can keep coming out here until you get it. I'm sure we'll figure something out before the end of today though."

Harry pointed out towards the water. "I want you to pull the mana from this lake into yourself. I know you know how to do that. That's not your problem. Your problem is that blue magic usually manifests in ways that are not the most obvious. Why don't we stick with the most concrete examples for now? Summon a bird. Make it appear perched on your hand."

It appeared that Ron and Hermione were having similar difficulties. When Hermione opened her eyes, she found an enormous albatross squawking at her. Frightened, she threw up her hand and the bird took off. Harry, acting quickly, told her, "This is your chance. Capture it, make it yours!" Hermione nodded. She flung out her hand, and the bird was covered in ice. It started to fall towards the water. Before it could land, she used her telekinesis to bring it back to her. Harry was treated to the unique sight of the bird with the six foot wingspan shrinking and getting drawn into his friend's head. It was a little disturbing, and Harry knew that she would want to continue. He could hardly blame her. The first creature capture was such a rush.

Hermione was astounded, and she looked at her hands in wonder. She spoke quietly, "I did it," then again, shouting, "I DID IT!" she jumped around the shore, and leapt into her friend's arms. Harry, stunned at being hugged for the first time that he could remember, numbly closed his arms around her. She quickly left his loose embrace, too excited to stay still. She started skipping around Harry, chanting, "I did it, I did it, I did it." When she looked back at Harry, he was still wearing a shocked expression. He saw her looking, and tried to school his features, but could react in time. "What?" She felt a little defensive. This was why she was out here, right? Surely he wasn't shocked at her success?

"Nothing!" Harry cleared his throat. "I was caught by surprise. I didn't know what it-I wasn't ready for the hug."

"Oh!" Now she blushed. "It's okay right? I was just excited, it's not weird or anything?" She had liked it, but boys could be weird about hugs from girls. At least, that's what she had heard.

"No no no, it's fine. I just never… I wasn't ready for it, that's all." Harry wished she would just drop it and get excited about the next summoning. "So what else can you imagine? I bet you've got all sorts of things you want to see in person!"

But Hermione wasn't the smartest witch of her age for nothing, and she hadn't reached the point in her life when she would know when it would be better to not have a question answered right away. "Harry, you began to say something. Was that…was that your first hug?" please say no, please say no…

Harry scoffed, in that quick, forceful way that tells everyone that not only are the next words out of the person's mouth going to be lies, but something that the speaker desperately wishes were true. "What? No! Of course I've been hugged. Loads of times. All the time." Harry knew he couldn't fool her, and he hated that he had to try, but was desperately hoping she wouldn't press further. He opened his arms.

Hermione nodded and was silent, but didn't hesitate to go back into his arms and hug him tightly. Harry could hear her sniffing, but no tears fell, for which he was grateful. She hugged him tightly for a minute, and Harry allowed himself to get lost in the gesture. When the time came when Harry thought she might want to get back to training, he loosened his arms around her. She however held him tighter, and refused to let go. She let out a slight gasp, and Harry felt her hand moving slowly up his back. Harry realized that the t-shirt he was wearing was quite thin, and it was possible she felt the raised flesh on his back. He cleared his throat, and tried to step away again. This time she let him, and she surreptitiously wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. They were quite red.

She drew herself up, and spoke with a shaky tone of voice that grew strength as she talked. "Okay, so what's next?" Harry was grateful to her for being able to refocus so quickly, and not bringing up what she most likely was guessing about him.

"Um, we should focus on spells that do damage. Blue doesn't have that much in the way of direct damage, but it has some. Try and bring about a wind to push the water around. Make a small storm or something."

Instantly Harry knew he made a mistake. The wind went from near dead to instant heavy storm, and icy rain was falling all around them. Harry felt a presence in his mind looking for something, and he thought of Uncle Vernon for some reason. Within a blink he saw him, as he had pictured him, standing in the water in the middle of the squall. A shark appeared in the water, and attacked Uncle Vernon. Another shark tried to take a chunk out of the man, and they began to rip him apart. He screamed, but the sound was strangely muted and tinny. Harry was forced to think of the rest of the Dursleys, and in the real world he saw Petunia skewered on a spike made of ice, and saw Dudley running from an aggressive walrus. Hail continued to pelt the pair of students, and the wind swirled around them. Vernon appeared again, whole and seemingly none the worse for the wear. The next moment he was attacked by some sort of monster. It seemed to be all mouth and teeth and eyes and it easily swallowed and started chewing the rotund man. The cries again seemed to come from far away, but there was no mistaking the agony on the man's face. Petunia was ripped apart by wild dogs. Dudley was beaten to death by large, indistinct figures. Vernon was whipped raw. Petunia was stabbed. Over and over visions of Harry's relatives dying horrible deaths.

The visions weren't all of violence. Harry saw the Dursleys accepting him as one of their own. He saw another family, what looked to be Hermione's parents, hugging the two of them and smiling. He saw Hermione getting the Head Girl badge, and Harry saw himself smiling at her. It was a different smile than the one he normally wore when looking at her, but Harry was hard pressed to tell the difference. He looked to where Hermione was standing, and saw that she wasn't watching any of them. Instead, she had her eyes close, and as Harry watched, she became slightly see through. The whole of the world was changing from what harry knew to be true. He saw a combination of the library at Hogwarts, what must have been Hermione's bedroom, a beach in the tropics somewhere and other places he did not recognize. They were all flashing by with barely enough time to make sense of them. And they were getting more solid while the lakeside was getting less real-looking.

Harry found himself in a movie theater with Hermione at his side, she was laughing at something he said, not paying any attention to the movie. She looked older, sixteen or so. Another change in scenery had Harry sitting at a round table with Hermione and her parents. Harry went to try some of the food on his plate before he realized none of it was real.

It hit Harry then. He had to stop Hermione before one of them got lost in her illusions. Hermione was already barely visible and fading fast. Harry had to move fast before he lost track of himself and her. He tackled her, but she was already insubstantial. He moved through her, and found himself in a room much like the Dursley's sitting room. There were differences, though. Here it was clear it was a room that was meant to be used, not displayed. The furniture was more worn, and there were knickknacks on the counters and on the mantle. Images of a young girl Harry thought was Hermione were in nearly every picture. Each picture showed a different event: In what looked to be a spelling bee, the girl was taking first place. In another, Harry could see her on a farm riding a horse. There was another where the child was petting a cow and looked very uncomfortable. Then Harry saw a picture with her and her parents.

It was Harry and Hermione. They were the girl's parents.

It was then that Harry looked down. He was standing much taller than he usually did, and the feet he saw were not encased in Dudley's old trainers. The shoes were dress shoes, and Harry saw that he was wearing nice slacks and an emerald green jumper. They were much nicer than anything Harry had ever owned, and he was confused.

Why would Hermione make a fantasy world where the two of them were married? She never said anything about anything like this before. Harry shook his head. It was irrelevant. He had to get himself and Hermione out of here before…before…Harry guessed staying here, no matter how nice, would be a bad thing. He had no idea what would happen, but it couldn't be anything good.

Harry called throughout the house, "Hermione? Where are you, Hermione? We have to go!" He didn't want to say where they were going, as he didn't want to spook her, and he didn't know the imaginary child's name so he couldn't call for her. Luckily, he heard a voice say, "In the kitchen dear!" Now all he had to do was figure out where the kitchen was. He passed by a window that overlooked a front lawn with a garden. He saw an azalea bush that needed replacing and some weeds in the flower bed that needed to be gotten rid of. He was about to try and make a mental note to take care of it when he had more time when he shook himself and forced the thoughts from his mind. "Damn those Durselys, they have me gardening even in times of danger."

He moved through the house towards the back. He could hear humming and could smell some sort of tomato dish cooking. His experienced mind automatically identified the smells of basil, garlic and sautéed onions mixed in with the strong scent of fresh tomato, and he wondered if whomever was cooking could be convinced to add some mushrooms to the sauce. He rounded the corner, but stopped and leaned against the doorway. There he could see a slender but beautiful woman leaning over the counter. Between her and the counter there was the girl in the photographs, happily making homemade pasta into spaghetti. There was a pile of ones already done and set to dry, and it looked like they were working on the last batch. The child's face and arms were covered in flour, and the woman had spots of flour on her blouse. They both were smiling widely, and they looked utterly content. Harry was reluctant to interrupt them, until he remembered why he was here at all. He cleared his throat, and they both turned to look at him.

"Hermione," he started, but he was interrupted by a speeding bullet that ran over and attached itself to his legs. Harry was briefly annoyed that she got flour all over his trousers, but the smile on her face made it hard to stay mad.

"Daddy," the girl yelled, "Look what we made! Do you see? We made pasta and pisketti!"

The woman smiled, and corrected her, "Spaghetti, dear, remember? I swear love, we've been trying all day, but she seems determined to do things her own way."

Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Remind you of someone?" The older version of Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled as she did. Harry found himself smiling back despite his best efforts.

Harry was doing his best not to get caught up in the illusion, but it felt so real. Harry had always wanted a family that loved him, and if he couldn't get it as a child, why not have it as an adult?

He shook his head again. It didn't matter, none of this was real!

He tried to speak again, but this time Hermione cut him off. "I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no. You spent too many hours cooking at the Dursley's house, and I refuse to allow you to cook again while I can help it. So sit down and be quiet, and in about fifteen minutes we'll be able to enjoy this meal your daughter and I have been working most of the day to make!"

Harry couldn't help himself. "Your sauce is boiling over." Hermione, panicked, dashed back over to the stove and stirred the sauce frantically, hoping it would not burn. An acrid smell told her she was a little late, but the meal was still very salvageable.

He stood up from the table at which he was forced to sit by a very determined young woman. He gently pushed her aside, and went to stand behind Hermione. She sensed his presence, and sighed and leaned back against him. Harry took a deep breath himself. This part was going to be difficult, and required some finesse.

"Hermione, love, do you remember our first Halloween at school together, in first year?" First he had to see how much of the real world she remembered. Although Harry had no idea what a wizarding house looked like, he could see electric appliances. From what Ron had told him about his home life, wizards didn't use electricity. He couldn't see his or Hermione's wand anywhere, and no wizarding photos anywhere. She might think that we are Muggles, Harry thought.

"Sure I do, Harry. Best day of my life, you saving me from that troll. I got to meet the real you, the Harry who was willing to jump on the back of a troll to save a bossy girl you weren't even friends with. I say, Harry you do know how to make an impression on a girl." Hermione said all this without looking up from her work at the pot. She gave it a final stir, then kissed Harry's cheek. Okay, now another test.

"Right yes. But what did we do the next year? I can't recall." Harry kind of wanted to know. How do you top that?

Now Harry could see Hermione frown. "I don't remember. But it was before you and I got together. That was in the middle of our third year." She smiled hugely. "It was so romantic. You asked me to Hogsmeade in the middle of the Great Hall. It was so sweet, you even brought me flowers."

Okay, Harry thought, she's made false memories. Time for the all-important question. "Do you remember that time down on the lake, where you hugged me, and then asked if that was my first hug?"

"Yes I do. Honestly Harry, getting you away from those Dursleys was the best thing that ever happened to you. Honestly, the things I would do to that Vernon if he was still alive, I'd be put in jail for half of them. The brutality of that man! I'm so sorry you were put through that, and I'm so happy I could be there for you." She put a hand to Harry's face and looked into his eyes. Harry was having a hard time looking away. "Why do you want to know all these things so badly?" Harry knew taking this fantasy world away would hurt her, but he had to keep going.

"But what happened after that? What did we do right after?"

"Well we went back to the castle, I went to the Owlry and sent an owl to my parents who started legal action against the Dursleys. Then we had to wait a bit for the paperwork to go throught but we got a temporary injunction keeping them away from before we could have an investigator go through and verify your stories. Honestly Harry, a cupboard? I almost didn't believe it, but I knew you would never lie about such a thing. You'd never lie to me." She gave him a smile as she snaked her arms up around Harry's neck and gave him a kiss on the other cheek. Harry was happy she gave him such an opening. Now to break her heart.

He took a deep breath and made the plunge. "Okay, Hermione. You know I would never lie to you?" She nodded, her face becoming more concerned. "Well, what if I told you that we were still at the lake? What would you do if I told you nothing of what you see is real? You and I are still twelve and eleven, and we never left the lake. All of this is an illusion you made up."

Hermione looked shaken, then angry. "Don't say that. Don't disrespect my affection for you by lying to me. Especially in front of our daughter!" She pointed at the young girl sitting placidly at the table.

Harry had only one thing to say to that. "What's her name?"

Harry looked his friend dead in the eye. Hermione's mouth open briefly, then shut. She opened her mouth again, and tried to say a name she did not know. Harry could feel rain on the back of his head. But he had to keep focused on Hermione. She had to believe him and end this illusion otherwise they might never be able to leave.

Hermione looked more and more distressed as the conversation went on. She looked at the girl, still sitting at the table unconcerned, and Hermione whispered, "I don't know. Why don't I know my daughter's name? Why can't I think of it?"

Harry answered, as gently as he could, "Because she's not real. That doesn't mean you'll never have a daughter, just that you don't have one today. Because our eyes are the only real things here. You were in the middle of summoning up a bunch of illusions, and we got caught up in them. Please, Hermione, you are the one with the power here. Bring us back." But Hermione wasn't listening anymore. She was shaking her head, chant no over and over.

"No. I don't believe you! This is real! Our life together is real, I know it! Don't tell me I don't know what's happening!"

Harry sighed again. There was only one option now. "Then I'm sorry Hermione. You leave me no choice." Harry summoned the ambient blue magic into him, and launched his mind at Hermione's. He hated to do this, and had sworn he would never invade his friends' minds, as it was a huge invasion of privacy. That was a breach in trust he might never get over if it happened to him, and he didn't want to be on the other side of the argument unless he had a choice. He delved into his friend's mind and sought out her access to mana. He could see there was a huge draw on it, and saw Hermione was going to burn herself out if she didn't stop these illusions soon. Harry thought for a moment, and cut Hermione's access to the memories of the land. It wouldn't be permanent, just long enough to…

The kitchen flickered once, twice, then a third, and then completely disappeared. In its place was the lakeside, which had understandably looked like a hurricane had gone through it. Trees and branches were strewn about, and the giant squid was waving its tentacles in pain. Harry could see many scratches and cuts on the creature, and he figured they must have come from debris.

Harry turned to where he figured his friend was, and found her sitting on a boulder faced away from the lake. She had her head in her hands, but she didn't appear to be crying. Harry walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but didn't move her head from her hands. She spoke, "I really messed up, didn't I." She said it like it wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"Did I ever tell you about Ron's first summoning?" Harry asked airily. "Ron decided that he was going to pump so much mana into it that he summoned a bunch of fire elementals and a fire bird thing called a Crimson Hellkite. Set the forest on fire and nearly blew up the mountain. I had to kill the Hellkite before it could escape and attack the school. It was a pretty scary half hour. I nearly died," he finished unconcernedly.

Hermione huffed out a laugh. Her head peeked out from her hands, and Harry could see she was indeed crying. "Yeah, but at least you didn't go into your best friend's mind without his permission to get a look at the person that made his life so horrible that he didn't know what it felt like to be hugged, among other things." She looked away again, into the Forest. "At least you didn't all but declare your love for him," she finished quietly.

Harry wasn't sure what to say here, so he winged it. "I don't know, the house was kind of a nice touch. Your garden needed work though. There were weeds everywhere. Didn't look good at all." She laughed at that, and Harry felt that was a positive step. He continued. "The kid was kind of cute. But what kind of little girl doesn't like cows? I thought all children loved animals."

Hermione snickered. "I was bitten by a horse when I went to a farm as a toddler. After that I never liked farm animals. I guess the illusion made my feelings about those things show up in our daughter-. " She stopped there, mortified at the thought of talking about that part of the fantasy. Harry, showing unusual restraint and foresight, did not pursue it. Instead, he mere reached down and grabbed one of her hands and squeezed, saying nothing. Hermione squeezed back, and the two of them looked into the forest for a while.

After about five minutes of silence, Harry felt he had to say something to ease her mind. "Hermione, that world…" She looked up, frightened. "It was a bit much, but it wasn't necessarily bad, you know? Like, it's too much _for now_, but later, who knows? Just…don't think too hard on it, okay?" She nodded furiously. She was glad he didn't bring up the invasion of his mind. "And about the going into my mind thing…" Drat, "It's okay. Sometimes our emotions get the better of us when it comes to magic. If anyone's going to be going through my head, I'd rather it be you. You'd probably take the best care of it. Can you imagine what Snape would be like if he could read minds?" Harry gave a little laugh, and after a moment, Hermione giggled as well.

Harry looked around. "Well, that could have gone better, but it wasn't a bad way to get over your mental block. We should head back. It's getting late." Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She moved over to the broom, not happy about her transport, but she was eager to leave.

Harry had to tease her one last time before they left. "Are you sure you don't want to try flying without the broom?" The glare she sent him could have frozen a fire elemental. But Harry just chuckled, and he flew them back without further incident.


	8. Chapter 8

**Been a while since I posted. The first few chapters had come easily to me, and as soon as it became difficult I began to flounder. I've started to chart out this story in more detail, so hopefully I won't have another 2 month gap. Thank you to everyone who favorite and followed, and especially to those who reviewed. **

Harry wanted to talk to Hermione. After the whole experience, it felt like the thing to do. But it seemed like after the incident by the lake she was more reclusive than normal. She would avoid him like he was diseased, and she would do everything she could to not speak to him in class. In addition, she would take books out of the library and study them somewhere Harry could not find her and she would not turn up for meals either. Harry was getting worried. He felt he should apologize, but he had no idea what to say. He finally caught up to her when they were leaving Transfiguration.

Harry was determined not to be left in the dust this time. He threw his books into his bag moments before the end of the class, heedless of the breaking quills leaking ink. He leapt out of his chair in the back of the room to stand just outside the classroom and waited. Lately Hermione had been staying behind to talk to Professor McGonagall about what Harry guessed was high level Transfiguration theory. He wasn't sure, because the one time he made the mistake of waiting in the classroom, he had heard a few minutes of incomprehensible jargon before McGonagall accused him of eavesdropping and threw him out on his ear, frog-marching out and locking the door behind him. This time he was determined to talk to his friend. He sat down, cast a spell of invisibility and settled for a long wait. Fortunately, the wait wasn't as long as he anticipated, for

Hermione soon exited the classroom, casting furtive glances down the hallway. As quiet as he could, Harry followed behind, frowning as she seemed to look deeper into shadows and random alcoves than they seemed to warrant. Harry followed behind for several minutes, aware that the longer this went on the more upset she would be when he revealed himself. Finally he trailed behind the girl as she climbed a set of stairs near the astronomy tower. Harry couldn't stop himself from scuffing his sneaker on the flagstones. At the small sound Hermione whirled around and took a defensive stance, hands blazing with blue fire. She opened her mouth to cast some spell that would undoubtedly painful when a voice sounded seemingly from the ether.

"Battle magic in the hallway is not necessary at this time, young Miss Granger. I assure you, you are perfectly safe at the moment." The elderly headmaster stepped out from the shadows into the hallway, his eyes twinkling like he heard some great joke. Harry would have sworn that the headmaster had not been there a moment ago had he not said something, and Harry could only say that the ancient wizard had somehow appeared with a slight pop out of nowhere.

Hermione struggled to remain calm after the jolt she just experienced. She responded with a strangled voice, "Hello Professor Dumbledore. I was just coming up to see you." The old man continued to smile serenely, and the young girl crumpled. "All right, that's a lie. I was going up to the astronomy tower. The older students say it's a great place to get some privacy, but I can barely move without tripping over a professor or a pair of students." She paused, worried. She twisted a finger in her hair, and continued. "Were they having me on?"

"I'm afraid so, child. Most of the older students at some time or another are caught having a tryst up here with another student. I doubt this is what you meant when you asked for privacy." He paused, as a thought seemingly came to him. "But why are you seeking privacy? Are the other students making things difficult for you again?"

Now Hermione seemed more embarrassed than she had before when she almost cursed the headmaster. "No, they all backed off after the troll incident. The other students stopped making fun if me after I made friends with Ha-Harry..." Here her voiced trailed off, and she cringed as she said her friend's name. Dumbledore's smile, already lighthearted, gentled further, and his eyes gained a sympathetic twinkle. Harry wondered if he knew what happened down at the lake when Hermione lost control, or if he could guess. It seemed very little escaped the man.

"Ah. You are avoiding him. And you feel guilty for avoiding him. Tell me, did he say anything to make you feel uncomfortable about what happened?" The rumors were true! Harry thought to himself, he does know everything! "I don't know what transpired between you two," Oh nevermind, "but I do know that problems tend to grow rather than shrink when left alone. Talk to Harry. The two of you are friends. I doubt anything has truly been damaged."

There were few things that Harry wouldn't do to take the pain out of her voice when next she spoke. "You don't know what I did!" cried Hermione. "You don't know what he saw in there."

"And I do not need to know. Most of what I need to know you have already told me, and what little remains I can guess, but can be summed up in a simple question: do you want this to work out?"

"Of course I do, Professor! But I have no clue how to start, or even know who should apologize..."

"All you can do is try. I am positive a student as smart as you can find a way to solve this particular problem." He chuckled again. Harry was wondering what was so funny about the situation. Harry certainly wasn't laughing. Perhaps there was some truth to the rumors that he was barmy. But at least now he knew that Hermione wanted to fix their friendship. Now all he had to do was avoid her flinging spells at him for following her.

Dumbledore took his beard in his hand and smoothed it out. He shook his head and chuckled again. "I must say this is sort of refreshing. You and Harry are very mature for your ages, I ascribe that to all the blue mana that you two have been using. Talking to you tonight allows me to see that you are still just a young girl."

Hermione huffed. "I'm not so sure that's a good thing. And I am not sure I like how much fun you are having at my expense. What good is this magic if it can't prevent incidents like this?

Dumbledore lost some of his geniality. "My dear, I believe the magic you have been using has actually prevented quite a few problems in the Gryffindor dorms. I think you are channeling so much mana that you are bleeding out to the other students."

"That's ridiculous. What would make you say that?"

It seemed Dumbledore was waiting for that response. He drew himself up as if he was giving a lecture, an obvious remnant of his days as a teacher. "I know this because of many reasons. You are exclusively using blue magic, which is the color of knowledge and learning, correct?" At her nod, he continued. "The other girls in your dormitory, would you describe them as academically inclined?" Without waiting for a response he continued. "Your dorm mates went from on average receiving Acceptables to Exceeds Expectations without any external cause that we can see. Madam Pince has not seen them in the library studying and they have not checked out additional reading material. Professor McGonagall had not reported any of them going to her for extra help with her or any of the student tutors available. And yet their grades have risen faster in more subjects than any previous year. When we tracked the grades of these girls and compared them to other years, the rise outpaces the grades of muggleborn Ravenclaws. Do you see that as significant?"

Hermione still wasn't convinced. "maybe they just got better at school. It's only one letter grade difference. Statistical anomaly, perhaps?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "That would be true if it paralleled existing trends. The vast majority of the students experience worse grades as the year goes on, as we start asking for the students to handle more material at a more difficult level. These girls buck the trend completely. They aren't studying more, they understand more. I think it has to do with you. I think they are getting smarter by proximity to you, and they are not the only ones. This year the second year and fourth year Gryffindor girls are close to the first years, and in the case of the fourth years directly above them. They also have experienced a shift in grades for the better, and we are at a loss to explain them. Something similar has happened to the boys. Tell me, how many disagreements or fights have you had with your roommates this year?"

"Quite a few actually." Hermione frowned. "Is that a lot?"

"Not at all. We ask the mirrors and portraits in the dorms to take note of fights and squabbles between students so that we know whom to punish and when to intervene if things get out of hand. Students who have never lived with another person in their space tend to have arguments over seemingly trivial things, in order to establish rules of behavior. Your year is normal in that regard. But what we can't explain is the behavior of the boys. Students who were the best of friends and acceptable roommates are having vicious arguments the like we have never seen. The only explanation we have is that Ron Weasley seems to be sleeping near them. But the first year dorms are unaffected. We can't explain that at all. Do you have any ideas?"

People were fighting because of Ron? Students were doing better just by being around Hermione? Somehow Harry knew what would be said next would have to do with him. He was really starting to regret listening to this conversation.

"What about Harry? Maybe they don't want to fight around him?"

"It may be more than that. All the times there have been fights, Mr. Weasley has been present if not an active participant. But whenever Mr. Potter is involved, no one argues. Even when there is a fight in progress, the boys stop immediately. But as soon as he leaves tensions rise again. I don't think it's that they don't want to fight around Harry. I think that they can't fight with Harry there at all." This all was news to Harry, who hadn't noticed any fights breaking up around him. But now that he thought about it, He did notice Seamus and Dean looking angry with Neville and Ron a couple times, but nothing like what the Headmaster was describing. Were they really unable to fight around him?

"Why would that be Professor?"

"The answer to that question has two parts. First, I think that Harry is leaking white magic, something that according to the literature causes peace and calm in people affected by it. Second, I think that while the four of you are particularly adept at manipulating mana, I think wizards and witches might be more sensitive to mana than we realized. I think that the children here at this school might be able to do some of what you have accomplished." At this Hermione opened her mouth to protest. Dumbledore cut her off, saying, "I'm not asking you to teach them, or asking you to tell other how to do so. I'm just saying it is possible for others to learn what you have done, and you might want to make sure they learn the right methods the right way, for left to themselves the other students might not be as mature about the power they could wield as the four of you have been. Just give it some thought. Please try and work things out with Harry. Things will not be as bad as you make them if you attempt to fix things soon."

The headmaster moved away swiftly, especially for an old man, with his footsteps echoing in the now dark corridor. Hermione, exhausted by her conversation by the conversation with the older man, clumped against the nearest wall. Harry looked around at the sky through a nearby window, and noticed that the sun had long since set and the dinner hour must have come and gone while he was following Hermione and while Hermione and the headmaster were talking. Harry hadn't noticed but he was hungry, and it was only a matter of time before-

Harry's stomach growled. Blast.

Hermione gave a weary giggle. "You can come out now Harry. You must be incredibly stiff; you've been standing still for a long time."

Harry cancelled his spell of invisibility and stepped into the flickering torchlight of the corridor. He gave his friend a sheepish grin and noticed she didn't seem the least bit surprised that he was there. He asked, "How long have you known I was there?"

"I thought of a new spell. It allows me to see magic and enchantments. It's quite useful for discovering secret passages and seeing what books have protective enchantments on them. You light up like a Christmas tree; I knew you were there as soon as I turned around. Professor Dumbledore caught me by surprise though. He popped out of nowhere. I thought people weren't capable of Apparating on Hogwarts grounds. I wonder how he did it." She looked down for a moment. When she looked up, she sighed and stepped away from the wall. She swung her arms in front of her for a while, back and forth, as if she was thinking something through. She looked back at Harry. "I guess we should talk about what happened, huh?"

Harry grinned in a way he hoped would put her at ease. "Yeah, that was an impressive bit of magic. How did you manage that without doing it before? Was that really your first time?"

She shook her head and laughed. "Such a boy. Yes that was the first time. But I had some ideas for what I wanted to have happen. They just got a little bit out of control."

Harry snorted. "The lady does have a gift for the understatement." Sobering, Harry asked, "Is that why you were avoiding me? Because you lost control?"

Looking away, Hermione answered, "That wasn't the only reason. I looked into your head Harry, I saw your memories. I saw what they did to you, quite a bit of it."

At a loss, Harry responded, "You were in my head for less than a minute."

"It was more than enough time. It felt like hours to me, and I hated myself for every second I was in there. I had to be sure Harry, about what I felt on your back when I hugged you. My parents are dentists, and they've reported cases of abuse before. They told me you have to be sure. How can you stand it?" As she spoke she became increasingly agitated. She paced back and forth, meeting his eyes every time she walked towards him. "How do you hide it from the other Quidditch players in the locker room, or your dorm mates? Your uncle ripped away flesh from your back with his belt, and it left scars that I can still feel." Here she started yelling, the grief and anger she felt was too much to contain. "How are you still sane?! How are you so normal?!"

Harry had had enough. On her way back to him, Harry grabbed his friend by the arms and held her tightly enough so she couldn't easily escape. "I act this way because it is the only way I know how to survive. It's the only way I know how to live with them and keep them from attacking me. Yes it's terrible, and yes I have had to deal with a lot in my past, but that's the past. I know magic now, and I can defend myself against them. But only if they attack me first! I won't be like them Hermione. I won't be a bully, threatening them to be nice or I'll kill them. That's not me. I won't let it be."

Hermione's eyes were filled with tears. "You can't go back there. I'll call the authorities when we get home and-"

"And what? You'll have to do it without my testimony; I won't be part of a media circus. Who then is going to believe you? The Dursleys are upstanding citizens of the community, and I'm just the Potter boy that none of the kids are friends with. They'll just say that I got them falling down somewhere, and then they'll try and hurt me worse for blabbing. I'll have to hurt them back, and it will get out that Harry Potter can't be trusted with his relatives. Trust me, my way is better."

Hermione sighed. "I hope for your sake that you're right. You realize that Dumbledore could get you out of there if he wanted to? That he could if you asked him?"

"Maybe, but I still have magic to level the playing field. If Dumbledore can't or won't get me out of there I still need to have the Dursleys not be enraged with me in order to live with them. Please Hermione, don't get involved." Harry looked away, desperate to put some distance between him and the distasteful topic. He frowned, puzzled. "What are you doing up here anyway? Obviously you weren't up here to see Professor Dumbledore."

At this she brightened. "Oh! You'll love this. I found a room that can change its contents and dimensions. I found it while I was testing out the mage sight. I could see the glow from this room from the library three floors down. It's incredible. You can make requests of books and devices that would take weeks to owl order, and there's a whole hidden section where either the castle or individual students have been hiding things away for decades, if not centuries. Some of the things in there are hundreds of years old! Maybe something of Urza's is in there! I was going to go look for it, but you both distracted me. Want to come?"

"Sure. Anything is better than talking about the Durselys. Lead the way." They quickly moved through the corridors, taking the occasional shortcut through cobweb infested secret passages, until the duo found themselves in front of a tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy, a man famed for trying to teach trolls how to dance. The moving fabric depicted the man in the process of teaching a pair of mountain troll a complicated ball-room dance, seconds before one of the trolls lost patience and clubbed the wizard to death. It was a very well done tapestry, nonetheless.

"Okay, I assume we are here. Where is this room you talked about? All I see is a blank wall."

Hermione looked almost smug as she shot him a glance. In a tone of voice that would have set Harry's teeth on edge had they come from anyone else, she said, "You have to use the mage sight in order to see it. I can show you, if you like."

"No please Hermione. I enjoy staring at a blank wall for hours on end. Let's just stand here for a while and really take it in."

"No need to get like that. I was just kidding." She huffed. "First you need some blue mana. Form a pair of imaginary glasses with it and lay them over your eyes. What is supposed to happen is the blue mana actually cancels the protective wards that prevent you from seeing magic. From what I can tell, most of the effects in this room require special wards so powerful they could be painful to look at and dangerous to interact with if you're not careful. Try and overlay the imaginary glasses with some white magic to heal yourself as you look through them. The first time I used them, I felt like I was looking at the sun for a few seconds. Try it out."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought of both the Black Lake and his home in Little Whinging, pulling the power that he knew was brimming right below the surface. That energy slowly formed into a ball in his mind's eye. He imagined the roiling ball of blue and white mana was flattening out and fitting itself over his glasses. There, he pictured the blue mana working opposite the reality he knew and instead growing more in synch with the reality that was actually there. The shimmering blue-white discs began to spin counterclockwise, slowly at first but gaining momentum. As they increased in speed, Harry could see lines on what looked to be a door. The rectangular shape of the door began to pulse brighter and brighter, until Harry had to use the white mana he had pulled to protect himself. Finally the door stopped growing brighter, and Harry was able to look and see without pain. He looked away from the door and looked up and down the hall. He could see the barest outline of an enchantment on the suit of armor by the end of the corridor at the top of the stairs. As he watched, the metallic man waved at him and then resumed his eternal vigil. Harry turned back to the glowing door. Now that the glow wasn't as painful to look at, he could see that it was not just one door in the middle of the wall. He could see a door that looked like it would be appropriate for a broom closet, another one for a bathroom, and another for something he couldn't quite name. There were hundreds of others, all overlaying the first few, existing and not existing in the same place. He asked Hermione, "I can see it. It's strange. The door is there and not there. It's like there are hundreds of different doors, but they are all the same. What do I do now?"

"From what I've been able to tell, all those doors are to rooms that have the potential to exist. We want to go to the storage room. That is where we could find all sorts of magical artifacts. Focus your thoughts on wanting to go through that particular door. Concentrate on that door."

With those instructions, Harry tried to narrow down the possibilities of potential rooms using nothing but his mind. He projected the thought, 'I want to go to the storage room,' over and over towards the nexus. At first, it just seemed like the entranceway was merely growing brighter. But after a few seconds Harry could see that one door was becoming more solid and defined than the rest of them. It was an ancient thing, a collection of rotting planks and a tarnished bronze door handle. It was so decrepit Harry could see marks where various bugs and vermin had tried to eat it over the years. It looked older than the castle surrounding it.

Before Harry could announce what he thought was his success, Hermione gave a gasp. She grabbed his arm in her excitement. "Look Harry! It's there! You've done it! Come on, let's go inside and see what we can find!" With her other hand, she yanked the door open and dragged her friend inside.

Inside, Harry drew himself up. The room was huge, and seemed larger than the outside dimensions would allow. By the entrance to the cavernous room, there was a mound of contraband items, left there by students seeking to avoid detention for their possession. There were piles of Fizzing Whizzbees, heaps of Ever-Bashing Boomerangs and Fanged Frisbees, and other items that Harry had never seen before. Looking further than the entrance, Harry could see other items that had the dust of ages all over them. There were many suits of ancient armor, shields of many different heraldry and what must have been literal tons of medieval weapons. The majority of the items were mundane, but Harry could see with the vestiges of his mage sight that showed fading enchantments on some of the pieces he could see. Looking further into the room, Harry could see more piles of junk accumulated over the ages under thick layers of dusty cobwebs that reached from the ceiling to the uncovered floor. Towards the back of the enormous room, He could see light streaming in from the dirt covered windows. He turned to his bushy-haired friend. He shrugged. "Okay. So this is pretty cool."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the deadpan delivery. She gestured to the nearest pile of dusty, ancient books. "I looked over a good number of those books over there. They are for most part old books from the library Restricted Section, ones that I think were taken out before the librarians put spells on books that were too dangerous to be read by any student. Mostly of them are old outdated potion textbooks with the occasional Defense book or a Charms textbook thrown into the mix. I haven't checked the pile on your left, so why don't we see what's in there?" Hermione, her arm still dragging her friend around, pulled him to the stack of books where she eagerly dove in. Harry, with somewhat less exuberance, joined her, searching through the titles of the books to see if there was anything useful or interesting. Harry found a book of curses he put aside to look at later, but found for the most part the whole thing to be a wash.

Growing bored of looking at dusty tomes written in hard to read script Harry looked up over the expanse of the room. Seeing a free space off near a corner of the room, Harry moved towards it, pushing the piles of junk out of his way. When he reached the empty spot, he used a few well-placed banishing charms to expand his breathing room. Choking on the dust, he called Hermione over.

Curious, Hermione asked, "What is it?"

"Come on Hermione, when have we ever had an opportunity like this? We have a large, open space where we're indoors and nobody will be coming around to bother us. We should practice some of the spells we've come up with! Aren't you tired of going halfway around the Black Lake to practice? I know I am. Let's try to work with mana inside the school, maybe the wards here will cancel out whatever ward keeps us from accessing mana at Hogwarts. Then, I promise, we will go back to looking at books."

Hermione looked conflicted, glancing between the pile of books she was working with and Harry. Harry threw out a winning grin the next time she looked at him, and she finally smiled. "Okay. But it's getting late. We may have to head back to the dorm for the night after this. I don't know when we will be able to head back here after this. You promise you will make time for this search? It is important, we need to find out as much as we can about this mana magic before we tell more people about it."

"Absolutely. If this works, we could come back here tomorrow night and set up right after dinner. You know, one of those things you've missed over the past few days," Harry teased. He was sort of curious how she had been eating, as she looked okay during classes, and yet she had never seen her during mealtimes. Maybe she was making her own food?

Hermione laughed. "I haven't missed any meals Harry. I've been eating down in the kitchens. Fred and George told me how to get there and it made it easier to study while eating. The house elves are very nice, and they can make anything. I wonder how much they get paid for their efforts…"

"Well, I've never been to the kitchens. Can you show me after this? I'm kind of hungry."

"Of course Harry. Why don't you show me what you can do with fire, then we can get dinner and go back to the dorms for the night. The end-of-term exams are coming up, and I want to make sure we all do well on them."

Harry showed her the steps for summoning creatures using fire, and she tried to copy them using blue mana. Towards the end of the session, Hermione was able to summon a being made of the dust in the air, but lost concentration and the creature disappeared. She was slightly disappointed, but Harry felt that it was a good first summoning. Not as exciting as Ron's first creatures, but Harry didn't mind that in the least.

**Lot of talking in this chapter, but I wanted to have this conversation in one go rather than break it up across a few chapters. Next part should be a little more exciting.**

**As always, read and review please! I can't get better without feedback.**


	9. Chapter 9

**First chapter in two months, and I got over a thousand hits in one night. That's pretty neat. However, a couple people brought up concerns about how Harry is treating his abuse. I just want to say this to all those who felt the same but didn't speak up: No matter how I've written him, no matter how mature he may seem in this story, he is still an eleven year old child who until recently had known nothing but abuse. Everything I've read tells me that a child in that kind of environment can grow up to be one of two different kinds of children. They can be combative, disruptive and contradictory, or they can become quiet, meek and conciliatory. Harry is the latter in canon, except when he is forced into action by circumstance and hormones. I wasn't going to write Harry as a pushover, but I know most abuse cases are unreported, because the child never gets the courage to speak up. Harry, despite having the power, isn't a paragon. He's just a scared kid. That's why he downplays everything with Hermione. Also, I do want to finish this story at some point, and I had to decide if Harry was going to be able to confront his relatives. I don't want to give things away, but Harry has a long journey ahead of him, and the Durselys don't factor in as much as some may want them to be. Be patient, I ask you. This particular story will be wrapping up soon, but we have a ways to go before the end of the saga.**

Quirrel, despite being the vessel for Lord Voldemort, the true ruler of the castle, had to pretend he was not. He gave classes, tutored students who needed it, and prepared his students for OWLs and NEWTS. As much as he hated it, Quirrel was unable to avoid patrolling the castle searching for students who were out of bounds and getting themselves into trouble. He had caught many students in compromising positions over the course of the year, always entertaining on a sophomoric level, but he viewed the whole exercise as a waste of time. He would much rather spend his time searching for ways to return his master to the power he so richly deserved. The only benefit to the whole thing was that he had plenty of time to let his thoughts wander as he tackled that particular problem.

That Evans witch must have done something to her brat to steal the powers of Lord Voldemort and give them to her child. It was the only explanation for the wretch being able to suddenly top the charts in power after barely a year of instruction. The boy was knowledgeable in Quirrel's classes, and had been able to answer questions and perform the required spells with ease. Quirrel had heard and reported to his master that the boy was allowed to follow his own lesson plan. By accounts, the boy was getting extra lessons from Dumbledore, the old fool, so maybe that explained his knowledge. But the thing was, at the beginning of the year, the boy was only a little more than average in book learning and power. So what had changed? Quirrel wasn't told about it, but he knew his master had met the child in the woods and had been driven back. That was not something even a third year had the power to do, so how had the Potter brat done it?

Quirrel cringed when he thought of the night his master returned after encountering the boy. The spirit had been in a towering rage, and had taken it out on his servant. While there were no physical scars, the pain had been more than Quirrel had ever wanted to experience again. The master was currently without the power to wield his own wand, but he was still able to compel Quirrel to hurt himself with a well-placed Cruciatus curse. Quirrel hoped that the master would be restored soon, and Quirrel knew he would have a place in the hierarchy with a grateful patron at the helm.

Quirrel paused, sensing a student out of bounds well after curfew. Maybe he would get lucky tonight, and he would be able to catch Potter. Maybe he could dismember the boy to find out what made him so special…

Quirrel was in a unlit passageway with many alcoves for suits of armor. He knew that the suits were actually chained poltergeists that would be able to defend the castle in a time of need. His master had told him one night before Halloween while Quirrel was searching for the perfect place to let the troll in to cause havoc. Voldemort had told him that the ghosts were there from the beginning of the school, and were the souks of the vanquished enemies of the founders. Voldemort thought the suits were tied to an unseen ward around the school, but had been unable to determine what the conditions were.

In the present, the teacher hid in one of the alcoves where a suit of armor usually stood, but had been removed for cleaning. He stood on the pedestal, keeping as still as the metallic men around him. The footsteps of the student, quiet at first, slowly grew more clear and quickened as whoever it was came closer to his or her destination. Holding his breath, Quirrel waited like a spider for the student to get close enough to grab. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the student turned down Quirrel's passage. He tensed, getting ready to spring, when he saw the light from the end of a wand. The light illuminated an unexpected face.

'What is Clearwater doing down here? She isn't patrolling tonight.' Quirrel thought about it, then smiled. It seemed not even prefects were capable of controlling their hormonal urges. Well, someone was about to get points docked. The little Mudblood had been distracted in classes lately. There was nothing he could catch her on, and he longed to give the witch a detention in the name of his master, but she was up to date with her homework and was able to answer every question in class. Now, it seemed he would finally be able to punish the girl for daring to tread his master's halls.

Quieter than the girl own near-silent footsteps, Quirrel followed her into the bowels of the castle. While on her trail, Quirrel began to frown. This was a long way out from the usual spots where he caught amorous young couples. They usually stuck to the astronomy tower, or at least classrooms that had a view of the sky. He had once caught a pair of students in his own classroom, thankfully before they had progressed too far. This girl was heading down into the dungeons, but deeper than the Slytherin common rooms. Maybe she was working on an illicit project? Whatever it was, she would regret coming out this night.

Further and further they went, until Quirrel began to get worried about his ability to find his way back. The stone around them was rough-hewn, and seemed to be carved from the very bedrock. The walls were made of dark stone, and Quirrel was starting to get glimpses of figures out of the corner of his eye. He had not seen a lit torch in close to fifteen minutes, but he could see tracks in the dust on the floor. Not many people had come here, but some had been here recently.

"You can stop lurking in the shadows, Professor. We're here." Clearwater's voice jolted Quirrel out of his thoughts. Besides the fact of her being able to sense his presence, the girl seemed off. She never showed any sign of surprise at being followed. She seemed entirely too calm for being caught out of bounds. She had expected him, and Quirrel wanted to find out why.

Silently, Quirrel stepped forwards and looked directly at the young girl. She was standing in front of a door to an unused classroom. Not a blonde hair was out of place, and she was dressed like she was about to go on patrol, with her prefect badge featuring prominently on her school robes. Her eyes were a little too clear, and the smile on her face was a little too fixed for comfort. It made the professor nervous, and that made him a little angry. Remembering at the last second to stutter, he spoke.

"W-w-what are w-w-we doing down here, Cl-Cl-Clearwater? You know this is against the ru-ru-rules. Rules that you swore you w-w-would abide by a-a-and enforce no less. Sh-sh-should I push for it, you could very likely lose your p-p-prefect status. W-w-was it worth the risk for some illicit d-d-dalliance?" Quirrel expected anything other than what she said next.

"Of course it was, professor. My master wished to meet you. This was the only way." With that she smiled again, turned and entered the classroom, trusting that the tainted professor would follow. Quirrel, baffled by her words, followed silently.

The room, like most of the castle, was dark. However, as they walked into the space, candles placed in obscure patterns around them lit themselves, starting close to the pair and moving further into darkness that the burning light could not shift. Looking down, Quirrel could see sigils and runes, drawn in what looked to be blood, all over the floor, continuing up into the walls. They hurt to look at, and Quirrel, well versed in dark magic thanks to his master's tutelage, had a hard time identifying them. Eventually, he was able to determine that most of them had to do with communication, and they were all high-powered ones at that. Evidently, someone was talking from a long ways away.

From Quirrel's turban, a voice spoke. It hissed, "Leave the girl. Leave this place. We cannot face this!" Quirrel turned to obey, but found a blank stretch of wall where the door once stood. A blasting curse did nothing to affect the wall, and the girl striding towards the center of the room did not even flinch. It seemed that Quirrel and his master would have to face whatever resided in this room.

Clearwater moved to the center of the concentric lines on the floor, where a bowl and knife were prepared on a pedestal, as if waiting for her. She removed her robes and knelt before the dais, and Quirrel could see the occasional slash mark on her arms from ritual blood-letting. This she did now, murmuring as she did so. While he couldn't make out the majority of the words, Quirrel heard the name Yawgmoth repeated several times. He had never heard the name before, but it filled him with dread. The prefect's chanting reached a crescendo, and she raised her arms in supplication. Quirrel then felt a presence, seemingly everywhere at once, in his head, in the room and in his very soul. Quirrel felt icy fingers reach deep into his heart seeking the essence that was him in order to bend Quirrel to its will. Before they could reach inside fully to corrupt him, a foul taste began to form in the teacher's mouth. He could feel the master on the back of his head exerting what little strength he had to wrest back his servant's soul from the presence's grasp. Suddenly, the oppressive force retreated, and Quirrel began to breathe easier.

Clearwater began to stand, and turned herself to face the teacher. She looked the same, but her stance had changed. She was limp, like a puppet, with her shoulders back and her hands dangling at her sides. She stood heedless of her injury, which bled freely onto the floor. Her eyes were the biggest change. Quirrel knew his student had clear blue eyes. Now they were so black even the sclera shone ebon in the candlelight. She opened her mouth, but the voice that emerged was not hers.

"_Curious."_ From that one word, both the master and the servant knew this was the entity that this room was meant to communicate with. "_Someone else has your soul."_

The voice coming from the girl was deep, deeper than a man's voice usually was. There was an element of ineffability to the voice, as if the mind controlling it was so far removed from human understanding to try would drive a person mad. Nevertheless, it talked to them, and if it didn't kill them on a whim, they might get out of the room with their lives.

Quirrel did his best to remember not to stutter. It would be best not to antagonize such a creature needlessly. And really, it was kind of irritating to do. "My master owns me, body and soul. I would die for him and him alone."

"_We shall see. I wish to speak to him. Arrange this."_ A drop of blood made its appearance coming from Clearwater's nose. It seemed that the presence was not very gentle with its toys. Quirrel silently asked his master for permission to reveal him, and He could feel the face on the back of his head nodding. Quirrel gave a nod of his own to the possessed girl, and began to remove his turban. Once his bald head was revealed, Quirrel turned around and allowed his master to face the meat-puppet.

"You wished to speak to me. I am Lord Voldemort, master of all magical being of England. Who, then, are you?" Voldemort spoke with as much bluster as he could, knowing that showing weakness would be the death of him and his servant.

"_You speak to Yawgmoth, the Ineffable, Lord- God of Phyrexia and the exiled ruler of Dominaria. Your name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and that is the last time you are allowed to lie to me."_ A pulse of fear shot through the pair of wizards, both at the knowledge and the raw power that flowed from the girl at the last pronouncement. It took everything in Quirrel not to bow to the creature before him. Not that he wanted to; the presence seemed to demand obedience. His master spoke again.

"That may have been the name I was born with, but it is me no longer. I am Lord Voldemort, in all the ways that matter. I wish to know. Do you intend to rule this world? Are we opposed in goals?"

"_If I were to wish it, your world would be mine. It is filled with untapped mana, so much so that is overflowing with it. However, your world, for now, does not concern me. The time for my joyous return to my home is drawing close, and I shall not be distracted by shiny baubles."_

"Then what is it you want? Why did your servant lure mine here? Why did you wish to speak to me?"

"_We have a common enemy. My power, though vast and far-reaching, is limited to agents hidden throughout your world. I draw power from it. There is one who threatens to change that, and who could attempt to interfere with my plans for my home. You know him as Harry Potter."_

Voldemort's countenance filled with rage at the name. Slowly, he brought himself back under control. With a calm voice, he asked, "How can I help you swat this particular fly?"

The next day found Harry in the library. Harry was beginning to think of the library as a second home. He certainly had spent enough time there. He even had a favorite table. It was towards the back of the library, by a dusty windowpane featuring a moving battle between wizards and giants from one of the many skirmishes in one of the giant wars. It was near stacks filled with outdated but still useful bestiaries about exotic and dangerous creatures. Whenever Harry got bored with studying either Urza's book or his school work, he would wander over to the shelves and read about Manticores, Chimeras, Gryphons and other fantastic beasts. The freedom to just read for hours was new to Harry, who was never allowed to read for fun growing up with the Durselys. Whenever he tried, either Vernon or Dudley would take the book away from him and make a big show of ripping it apart. These were invariably school or library books, and their anger would grow at being forced to pay for what they viewed as useless coddling of a useless boy.

Now, with the freedom afforded to him by Hogwarts, Harry was allowed to do what he pleased with his time. He found that while he enjoyed flying and being part of a team, he liked reading more. He could spend hours in the library and not notice, but he found he read more for pleasure than Hermione did. Hermione always wanted to be the best at everything academic, and would look for whatever knowledge she could use to further her understanding of the subject. She was more interested in the means to the end, while Harry enjoyed reading for its own sake. He found that he felt connected to the authors, that they had huge ideas that they were just barely able to get on paper and convey to their readers. Sometimes the authors showed their mental state in their feverish writing, and other times they merely stopped in a thought and picked up another, like a stream of consciousness. These were frustrating for Harry, but after reading the length of their books, Harry felt he had become friends with the authors. And after years of oppression, it was nice to have new friends.

Now, Harry wasn't all that interested in reading. He had a book open in front of him, but the words seemed to blur and shift in front of him. He pulled out Urza's book, never far from his grasp these days, and tried rereading that, but that made the feeling even worse. Just looking at the text seemed to give him eyestrain, and Harry pulled off his glasses in frustration. Determined to read, Harry thought of Surrey and the power that lay beneath it. He channeled the white healing magic into his eyes, directing the magic into a funnel of power into his face. Heat grew in his face and his head, but it seemed like the pain would not go away. Frustrated, Harry poured more magic to combat the pain, and for a moment it seemed like it would work. Suddenly, something in his face snapped, and the reaction from the magical energy was enough to push the books off the table and send Harry's glasses flying off towards the shelves. Harry lost his balance and slid from his chair, slumping to the floor.

Harry groaned, the backlash of magical energy causing his head to swim even worse than when he started the whole process. Slowly he stood up, the dizziness gradually going away as his head cleared. He looked around at the little corner of the library. It seemed like the damage from the little explosion of power was worse than he initially thought. Dust fell in waves from the now cracked window, causing the occupants to scatter to another undamaged pane of glass. Books from the nearby shelves had fallen off, bringing more cloying dust to choke the boy. From across the room, Harry could see his glasses had shattered, the frames bent from the force. He sighed. While he never really liked wearing glasses, he needed them to see even the hands in front of his face…

Wait a minute. Harry was blind without his glasses. So how was he able to see across the room?

Harry looked around. The Hogwarts library was at least as long as a couple classrooms. Harry had never been able to see the chalkboard in any class he attended since he was eight without using his glasses. Now, looking at Madam Pince at least thirty feet away, he was able to make out the style of the shirt she was wearing underneath her robe, something he would have had trouble with before his headache. She looked up, sensing his attention and glared back at Harry. Harry grinned, unperturbed. This was incredible! Harry rejoiced. Somehow the white mana had fixed his vision to the point where he wouldn't trip over his own feet without his glasses. He didn't even need them anymore!

Harry looked down with a private smile on his face. He wanted to jump for joy, but he figured Madam Pince would frown even harder on happiness in the library. It probably was against the rules somewhere. He could see! Suddenly his eyes swam with tears, as the enormity of what happened truly hit him. No longer would he be called four eyed freak by Draco or any of Harry's other bullies. He was like everyone else now. The relief he felt overwhelmed him for a moment. Then he noticed the book.

Urza's book was face-up in the middle of the table. It vibrated like it was some kind of animal shaking off water from its back. Slowly the shaking became more violent, until the tome was in the middle of the table and the vibration caused the whole table to move. Suddenly the book opened to the last page before closing itself again. Three more times it did this before the sound of the book tearing itself apart was heard. The binding of the book separated, the pages of the journal falling to one side and the back cover falling to another. The air around the book began to grow hazy, and Harry began to taste mana magic in the area around the book. The air grew darker, and the tang of magic grew heavier. The blackness around the book became complete, and Harry felt a pressure in his ears. The blackness vanished suddenly, and revealed that the book had repaired itself. Harry, cautious, moved forward towards the book, and noticed that the book had done more than just repair itself. It had added new pages. Somehow the book had been able to sense mana magic in its vicinity.

And wasn't that a worrying observation. Was the book sentient? How was it able to detect any kind of magic? Was it on some sort of timer? Harry had no way of answering these questions without studying the book. The logical step would be to read the new pages, but it wouldn't be the cautious one. Harry definitely wasn't going to read it in the middle of the library. What if it was some sort of bomb? Harry decided that he was going to read the extra pages in the room that Hermione showed him the night before. Harry gingerly picked up the book and placed it in his bag, hoping it wouldn't explode on his hip or something nasty like that. Harry stood up quickly and moved to exit the library. Or he would have, if he hadn't caught sight of something truly perplexing.

'What was Hagrid doing here? I haven't seen him in the library since I started coming here.' He paused, before heading out. Hagrid was in the bestiary section. That particular stack of books had to do with dragons and the rearing of them by humans. Surely he wasn't…

Harry shook his head. If Hagrid had imported some fire-breathing lizard, that was a problem that could wait. Harry could possibly have a magical bomb sitting perilously close to his genetic legacy, and he needed to move to somewhere where it wouldn't be able to hurt other people. He would deal with Hagrid and his possible dragons later. Right now he had to focus. Harry quickly moved out of the library, moving as gingerly as he could, until he reached the seventh-floor corridor and found the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He focused his mage sight on the blank wall, willing the largest and safest room possible into being. He needed the wards to be strong enough to withstand a sizable blast and large enough that Harry might be able to out-distance it. Far too slowly for comfort, the required door coalesced into being. Wasting no time, Harry ran into the new room and headed as far away from the outside corridor as possible. Only once he reached the far wall, did he feel safe, and with his relaxation, a bit of self-recrimination at his caution.

'Did I really think a book was going to explode?' He asked himself, 'This thing has been nothing but helpful, why would anyone make it dangerous?'

Almost sounding like another voice in his head, something in him responded, 'This is a how-to for some of the most powerful magic in the world. Why would Urza write something like this? What does he get out of helping other people do what he can do? There's got to be a reason.'

Harry thought to himself. 'A valid point, but why would he create enemies? Or destroy potential rivals? Odds are he would never find us to fight us. He goes through the infinite multiverse, what does he care about one other?'

'You're forgetting something. This book wasn't written ABOUT Urza, like the first one. That one just gave you vague ideas about what to do. This one was written by him. All authors have a purpose when writing. What was Urza's purpose in writing the book?' Harry couldn't immediately come up with an answer. Urza had written a book detailing the intricacies of mana, from theories about how it was formed, useful spells and creatures mentioned off-handedly, to warnings about dealing with untapped and unused mana and energy and their dangers. Harry had paid special attention to this section of Urza's treatise, near the end, where Urza mentioned that mana would bleed through and cause instabilities in the fabric of reality. Big spells were to be avoided until more mana was tapped. Harry figured it was like drinking from a can of soda that had been shook up. If you try to drink it immediately, you were going to get it all over you. You had to let some of the pent up energy out before you could safely pour it.

Harry was struck by a thought. In the biography of Urza, Urza mentioned he was constantly learning, and that magic was a continuous study. Maybe Urza wasn't getting rid of enemies. Maybe he was training contemporaries. Maybe he needed help with something that he hadn't mentioned, and needed people to find _him_.

Harry shrugged. The only way that he was going to get new information was to read the new pages in the book. Sitting here debating about the possible machinations of an author was getting him nowhere. Harry reached out towards the book and allowed it to flop open in his lap to the new pages. He felt the room change, and he looked around. It now looked like his favorite section of the library, complete with moving windowpane. Harry smiled, stood up and sat down at his table. He opened the book again and started reading.

"Congratulations on making it this far," read the book. "This book was sent to worlds that had yet to discover mana, so being able to read this means you have taken the lessons inside to heart. This book was also enchanted to reveal these extra pages so that certain information could be kept secret. This information could be dangerous in the wrong hands. If you are not capable, these secrets could destroy you. If you are not worthy, these secrets could destroy all that you hold dear. Here, there are spells, creatures and rituals so powerful they could devastate countries. Used correctly, they could be a great boon, and a scourge upon your enemies. Because you are using magic, it is likely you will need them."

"It has been said that I am heartless, calculating and manipulative. I've been told that I have treated people in ways that could be considered monstrous. My name has been cursed through the ages as the man who destroyed the world. But all I have done, ever since my days in Yotia as the Chief Artificer and beyond, I have to stop the evils of Phyrexia. Take heed reader, because I count the denizens of that plane as the enemies of every living creature to exist in the multiverse. These beings serve the dark god Yawgmoth, the Ineffable, and it is the duty of all to oppose them at every turn. At no point should one consider allying with them for any reason, for all deals eventually benefit only them, and the dealmaker will be their eager slave. I have seen this happen countless times over the millennia. Their evil comes in many forms, but there are certain constants: they are patient, they are ruthless, and they are forever hungry. Their newts can look like any resident of the world in which you live, and they will stop at nothing to deliver your worlds resources unto Him. The agents turned to the will of Yawgmoth are forever lost, and will dedicate their lives and bodies so that His will can be done. There is no way to save them."

"I tell you this so that you know, and can begin to formulate a proper defense against them. Because your people are now able to manipulate mana, Phyrexia will come for you. They will be insidious, they will be relentless, and they will not stop until you take the fight to them. They can muster the forces of an entire world, and in order to beat them you must do the same and more."

"Here, I have written down some spells that may not occur to you, so that you have the resources required to fight back and cause harm to our common foe. I hope that should you have the opportunity, you shall join me in the fight. We know where He ultimately wishes to go. My home plane, Dominaria, is His eventual target. He is seeking it, and all of His power is targeted at me and my forces. If I and my plane fall, then there will be nothing standing in His way to prevent him from assimilating your plane. Join me, and we can stop Him before it is too late."

Harry read on, fascinated. There was no mention of Phyrexia in any of the earlier text, and the idea that there was a whole world dedicated to evil chilled him. Voldemort in the woods was nothing in comparison to the pure malevolence described here. He learned that Phyrexians were a horrible amalgamation of flesh and machine. They would devour entire worlds in an effort to achieve perfection: machines that were perfect imitations of life without the weakness of flesh. Then they would assimilate all life in the multiverse so that it may conform to their idea of, "compleat." But the more he read, he grew more uneasy with Urza. Despite the very real need to stand against Phyrexia and its goals, Harry was getting the feeling that Urza would be a bad ally to have. He had been fighting against them nearly his entire life, and nothing mattered except his vengeance. In a way, he was nearly as bad as the creatures he fought.

Head swimming with new information, Harry read on. He barely noticed what he was reading until he came upon a ritual. It described a way to summon an avatar of an abstract thought or concept. These avatars wielded enormous power, enough to defeat armies of mortals. The ritual to bring these primal beings fully to a physical plane was complicated, and potentially destructive, but the ritual to speak to a shade of an avatar was considerably less so. These creatures were described, and Harry was in awe. The Avatar of Fury was a giant, winged humanoid, capable of swiftly killing anything in its path and growing to match the challenges it faced. The Avatar of Might was a towering brute, capable of tearing any opponent limb from limb. When Harry came to the description of the Avatar of Woe he stopped. This was the strange woman who came to him when he was fighting the fire elementals and the crimson hellkite. The description was a dead ringer for her, with a black hood over her eyes, two arms and three hands grasping a scythe. This was a being of incredible power. Why had it come to Harry when he didn't even summon it?

It was at this point when Harry began to smell something extremely unpleasant. The room began to fill with the smell of dead and rotting flesh. Harry gagged at the smell of putrefaction, and he imagined the sounds of clouds of insects buzzing around his head. The air became oppressive and heavy with the smell, and a cloud of palpable sadness and grief descended upon him. Harry, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the change, could only ask, "Why?"

"Because we are linked." A voice rang out from behind Harry, dark and raspy with ponderous weight. He fought to keep from shivering.

Harry turned from the book and turned to face the woman behind him. There stood the Avatar, scythe in hand. An aura of gloom surrounded her, and it was hard to maintain focus without thinking about death and loneliness. Harry shook his head, knock free thoughts about his mother and the comfort she might have brought here, and asked his question. "Why did you come to me? I didn't summon you either time."

"I have told you, we are linked. I am the Avatar of Death and Woe, and your life is filled with more woe than most. You have much pain in your past, and your life will be filled with my essence very soon and for a long time. You are a powerful magic user, and have the potential to change the fate of many. One could say I am getting in on the ground floor to your destiny. You are my champion, and I your servant. You will have much need of me in the coming days…"

Harry, understandably, did not like the idea of his life being filled with woe in the future. "Why will I need you? What is coming?"

The creature was still as the grave as she responded, "I do not know. I am not a fount of knowledge. What I do know is that I sense an aura of future pain to you, and I have known it since before you called on me to help you." She paused, as if listening to a voice Harry could not hear. "I serve more than one master now. He calls me to him. I must leave you." And with that she vanished as abruptly as she had arrived. The smell from her presence lingered for a while, but Harry paid it no mind. He had a lot to think about. Why was this thing following him around? Why did it have such an interest in him? And what did she mean about another master of death?


	10. Chapter 10

Head swimming with new information, Harry read on, absorbing ritual after spell after description of creature, at a rate that would make Hermione jealous. He was eventually pulled away by the insistent growling of his stomach, and he made his way down to the Great Hall. After the long hours in solitude, the wall of sound coming off of the chattering students was comforting. Harry plopped down next to Ron, exhausted by his day.

"Blimey, Harry, you look terrible. Are you feeling alright? Why aren't you wearing your glasses? Did you break them?" Ron asked rapid fire. Neville, sitting a little down the table from them, perked up. The formerly round-faced boy had flourished this year at Hogwarts, losing a good portion of his body fat and gaining quite a bit of confidence in himself. He would always be bigger than the other kids, but he would never be as flabby as before.

"Ron, please? Can I get something to eat first?" Harry asked as he grabbed a pork chop. Harry shoved a couple of bites into his mouth and groaned as he relaxed. He chewed, then swallowed as he leaned over to his friend. "I still have the glasses. I just don't need them anymore. I fixed my eyes with mana!" Harry finished with an excited gleam in his eye. Ron was suitably impressed, mouthing 'Wow,' with wide eyes. Neville, picking up on the subtext, reared his head back in surprise. He had heard what Harry and Ron had accomplished on the mountaintop, and was in awe of what Harry had been able to accomplish. He was hoping soon he could have similar results.

"Wow, Harry, that's wicked! What made you do it?" Ron asked.

"Honestly? I had a headache, and I wanted to make the pain go away. Apparently I overdid it," Harry admitted sheepishly. Now that he was really thinking about it, he was happy about how things turned out, but it could have turned out much worse than it did. What if he burned out his eyes with mana? How would he explain that? How could he fix that? He needed to be more careful.

Harry took another bite of his food, listening to the conversations around him. Most of the students were talking about the upcoming exams, or what they might do on their summer breaks. He could see the twins deep in conversation with their friend Lee Jordan, blocking out the rest of the room. Seamus was talking to Dean, trying to get him to owl his mother to get permission to go to Ireland for the summer. Harry thought of Urza's warnings, how doom could possibly be coming to his world, and how unprepared his planet was in the event of an invasion. He needed to talk to someone about all of the information he had uncovered. "Listen, have you seen Hermione? I need to talk to her. It's important."

Ron swallowed an enormous bite and said, "Dunno. Haven't seen her today. Maybe she went to one of her sessions with Dumbledore? She always seems to be hanging out with him or you these days. We barely do anything together now. We haven't even played a game of chess in ages! What's going on, mate?" He finished his rant with a vulnerable look. Ron really missed his friend. He had hoped that once he started using mana like Harry and Hermione did, or even practiced meditating like they did with Neville, they could be close again. But Ron had begun to lose his temper faster than normal, and he left the first meditation session he had joined in a huff.

Ron was having problems with his family too. Earlier, before Ron had come down to the Great Hall, Ron had gotten into a fight with Percy. Percy seemed upset that Ron wasn't doing homework like everyone else in the common room. When Ron tried to come up with an excuse that didn't involve his new studies, Percy exploded. He pulled Ron out of the common room and into an empty classroom, where he proceeded to name all of Ron's faults, ranging from the legitimate (Ron's tendency to procrastinate, his already quick temper) to the trivial (Ron's chess strategies being overly brutal, the lack of care in his appearance) to the ridiculous (The relative attractiveness of Ron's facial features, his enjoyment of silly comic books as a pastime). Ron, his patience fraying, finally exploded at this, almost literally. Percy was blown back from where he stood over Ron into a desk. Ron screamed back at his brother, ranting about how no one likes him at school, how he was a bully with a badge, how he had always loved to get his brothers in trouble, not because he was a stickler for rules and fair play, but because he liked seeing people in trouble. At this point they were discovered by McGonagall, attracted to the noise. She forcibly separated the brothers, and sent Ron ahead to dinner while she dressed down Percy.

At hearing Dumbledore's name, Harry looked up at the staff table to see if the headmaster was there. He didn't see him, but the sight of all the teachers together helped remind Harry of something he had put in the back of his mind. Harry had forgotten that Hagrid was looking up books about dragons, and he was acting secretively about it. "Never mind. I just thought of something. You want to go down and visit Hagrid? Somehow I think he's doing something that's going to get him in trouble." Spotting Neville listening in, Harry asked, "Neville, you want to come with us? We might need to go now." Neville nodded and stood up, joining Ron and Harry on their way out the Great Hall. None of them noticed a certain blonde watching them leave the room.

The trio moved quickly out of the school onto the grounds. The April sun had set, but there was still light to see by. Their boots squelched in the mud as they walked, and the air around them was growing colder. Finally they reached the hut where Hagrid was staying. Harry felt a twinge of guilt; he hadn't been to see the first friend he had made in the wizarding world in a long time. He had just been so busy with learning about mana he had been blowing off not just Ron, but Hagrid too. Harry pushed the guilt aside and knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door flew open, and Hagrid stepped out, closing the door behind him. He was dressed heavily, with a soot-stained, heavy apron and a full long-sleeved shirt. His hands were covered by blackened oven mitts, and he smelt strongly of wood smoke. His dark eyes darted around the grounds nervously. He was quiet for a moment, waiting for them to speak, before he broke the silence.

"'Arry? Wha' are ye doin' 'ere? Innit dinner time?" he asked, clearly hoping to get rid of the children as fast as he could. That confirmed it for Harry; Hagrid was hiding something that he was going to get in trouble for.

"Yeah Hagrid, but we already ate and I wanted to say hi to you. You weren't at dinner so we thought we'd come down and see you. We haven't talked in a while. Maybe we could catch up?" Harry pushed his way into the hut against Hagrid's feeble protests. Neville and Ron followed, wondering what Harry was up to. Hagrid rushed to close the door behind them.

Hagrid tried to regain control of the situation. "Sorry, 'Arry, it's no' a good time. Why don' we go fer a walk in tha woods tomorrah, we kin catch up then!" He tried to smile, but even through the great bushy beard it came through as more of a grimace.

Harry was undeterred. "Now's good," he said brightly with a large smile on his face. He wiped his brow of the sweat that had accumulated in the short time he had been in the cabin. "Boy, it's hot in here! Can't you open a window in here? Are you baking something?" Seeing Hagrid about to jump on this explanation, Harry's smile grew predatory. "Or are you hatching a dragon egg and you need the heat?" Neville and Ron gasped and looked towards the fire. In it there was a large egg the size of an American football. The flames roared merrily around it, and Harry could see the egg rocking very lightly. It was going to hatch soon.

Hagrid paled, and then drooped as if the life was sucked out of him. "'Ow did ya know?"

Harry gentled his smile, seeing how upset Hagrid was. He wanted to make sure his friend was out of trouble, not get him into it. "I saw you in the library, and I knew what section you were looking at. There was a whole shelf about dragon breeding. And I know you, Hagrid. You would do anything for a dragon to call your own."

Hagrid drew himself up. "Tha's righ'. I won it fair 'n' square off a man inna pub. I'm gonna have meself a dragon!"

"But Hagrid," Harry gestured to the wooden furniture, the wooden walls and the thatched roof, "Everything around here is flammable. If this fire doesn't spread out of control from a stray ember, what's to stop the thing from burning down your hut after it's born? And dragons get big. Where would you stash it? In the woods? That's a good way to get those centaurs that live there good and hacked off at you. What if it gets eaten by the acromantula?" Hagrid gaped at this, aghast that Harry knew there were acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. "And how would you hide it? It wouldn't be able to fly; it would be too hard to hide it if it did. Would you chain it up for the rest of its life so that you could say you had a pet dragon? Would you really subject it to that kind of life for your own amusement? I thought you loved animals, Hagrid. Why would you be so cruel?" Harry knew what he was saying could be considered cruel, but Harry was sure Hagrid hadn't thought at all about this. Hagrid was too caught up in his excitement of owning a dragon that he wouldn't (couldn't) think of the consequences. Harry had to do the nasty thing and bring his friend's feet to earth.

It worked. Hagrid seemed to crumple with every new point Harry made. By the time Harry was finished Hagrid was slumped in a humongous chair, with a hand over his eyes so the boys wouldn't see his tears. He couldn't hide, however, the big sob he gave at the end of Harry's speech. Harry drove it home. "You have to give it up, Hagrid. Ron here will get in touch with his brother and see if he can find some people to sneak the dragon out of the country. You can probably see the egg hatch, but after that you will have to give it up. How fast do dragons grow? It will be safe and happy in a preserve. There people can take care of it, it can eat what it needs and fly when it can. You know it and I know it. This is the better way."

Hagrid gave a great shuddering sigh as more tears leaked out from behind his hand. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Yer righ' 'Arry. I can' keep a dragon. But I've always wanted 'un. I jes' never thought abou' how 'ard it would be to keep it. I'll keep it safe. But 'Arry, I had ta do it. Tha book says once the egg starts rockin' like it is tha' means tha egg has ta hatch, or tha baby will die. I had ta hatch it; it was making little clickin' sounds when I got it, it was too close!" He removed he hand from his eyes and looked at the children imploring them to believe him. "I can' go ta Azkaban, them Dementors give me the collywobbles. I don' think I would make it in there."

Harry reached over to Hagrid and put a hand on his. "I'm sure that Dumbledore will do something to keep you safe. He's the head of the Wizengamot, maybe he can come up with a story where you were only doing the right thing. You guys have any ideas?" Harry turned back to his friends.

Ron shrugged, but Neville spoke up. "Maybe as soon as you heard there was a dragon egg, you got it away from the man for safekeeping?" Harry nodded, and continued the story.

"You were going to turn it over to the Ministry, but it was too close to hatching. You were going to tell someone, but the egg required your attention. It could work, and with Dumbledore to sell it we can make sure of it. But we have to tell Dumbledore now, otherwise it looks worse and worse for you. We'll go tell him now. Keep that egg safe, and we will be back as soon as we can." Harry moved to stand up, but he then noticed a dark shape in the window. When Harry stopped to take a closer look at it, it disappeared. Harry, black anger taking over him, rushed out of the cabin, hoping to catch whoever was spying on them. He raced out, took a flying leap and tackled a familiar blonde ponce running away towards the castle with two hulking boys in tow.

Ron arrived next, with Neville close behind. "What are you doing here Malfoy? It's not enough that you try and fail to make our lives miserable, you have to try and make things difficult for Hagrid too?" snarled the redhead. His temper, always close to the surface these days, made itself manifest with a static charge that filled the air. Neville, only slightly out of breath, stayed quiet, but was struggling to keep his own anger contained.

Harry, by contrast, seemed to almost be having fun. With a grin, he pushed the hair from his eyes, revealing the faded lightning bolt scar in the process. Malfoy, groaning on the ground, rolled to his back. Harry sat straddling the Slytherin and thumped a pair of fingers on the boy's exposed chest, grinning down at him. "How are you, Malfoy? Been a while since I've seen you!" He thumped his fingers on Malfoy's chest, producing a hollow sound and a grunt from the boy. The thumping was already causing a red mark to form on the boy's fair skin.

Malfoy coughed, and began to yell. "Get off me, you filthy Muggle! How dare you lay your hands on me! I'll see you in detention for this! Goyle, get him off me!" But when Goyle moved to push Harry, Neville and Ron stepped in and pushed him back. Crabbe, angered, pushed Neville away. Neville stumbled on a rock and fell. Neville jumped back up, pulled power into himself and stalked towards Crabbe. As he walked, Neville grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger, until he towered over the boy. Neville stepped in close to the young boy, and gave a very nasty smile. Crabbe whimpered and backed away. Ron, not to be out-done, moved in close to Goyle, who was staring at the now huge Gryffindor. Goyle began to reach for his wand.

"Nu-uh-uh…" said Ron. He brandished a handful of fire at Goyle, coming very close to singing his eyebrows off. "We don't want to do anything hasty, now do we?"

Harry still had a smile on his face as he watched his friends neutralize the other boys. He turned to Malfoy, still on the ground. "Would you look at that? Neville's learned a new trick. That seems cool; I might add it to my repertoire. Now," and here Harry's smile became more feral in appearance, "what were you doing looking in on my tea with Hagrid, hmm? Hoping to get him in trouble with your spying? You're not very sneaky. You must have servants who do that sort of thing for you." Harry moved up Malfoy's torso. He placed both of his knees on the elbows of the boy on the ground, so Malfoy would have trouble pushing him off. Harry mentally thanked Dudley for teaching him this move. Dudley would often beat up Harry from this position when no one was around to help him hold Harry down. Harry found the role reversal intoxicating.

Harry was having trouble thinking straight. The adrenaline was still with him, but it was telling him to copy Dudley lessons and pummel the weaker child into the ground. But Harry had a better idea. He wanted Malfoy to remember this moment for a long time.

Harry focused his mana, and a small flame came into being on the tip of his finger. He pulled the power back in, until the fire was little more than an ember. His finger glowing hot, Harry brought his hand down towards his rival's face. Closer and closer it got, until Malfoy began to try to squirm away. He kept his finger near Malfoy's ear as he leaned over and whispered quietly, "What did you see, Malfoy? What did you see in Hagrid's hut?"

Malfoy, despite the position he was in, was unfazed. He sneered at the dark haired boy. "You Gryffindors don't have the guts to do this. You're too noble! Merlin knows you would never do anything that might offend your precious sensibilities!"

Harry's grin became feral as he brought his finger close enough to singe blonde strands. The scent of burning hair filled Malfoy's nostrils. His struggles became more frantic as he replied, "The stupid oaf has a dragon egg! He'll be locked up in Azkaban for sure, once I tell my father about this! And you'll be out of Hogwarts!" Suddenly, he started screaming, as Harry pressed his finger to Malfoy's cheek. The fair skin turned red as angry blisters began to form. Harry took his hand away from the other boy's face as he sat up.

"See Malfoy, that's where you're wrong. We're here to correct that. See, you didn't see anything in Hagrid's hut. It was just us having tea. You don't want to have any more memory correction, now do you?" Harry returned his hand to Malfoy's ear and the boy started screaming again. His cronies, unnerved by the sounds coming from their leader, tried again to reach him. Neville, still a mana infused giant, pushed Crabbe back hard enough that the boy fell head over heels and landed flat on his back some distance away. Goyle tried as well, but Ron kept him at bay, waving his fiery hand at him. Harry kept the finger on Malfoy's ear for another moment, then let go. Malfoy was sobbing in pain at this point.

"Stop! Stop! I'll say whatever you want, just stop! Merlin it hurts!" he cried. The boy's ear was a mess of blisters and angry red burns, and his face was covered in tears. He was far from the usual aristocratic display he most often projected. "Merlin, please, make it stop!"

Harry stood up off Malfoy, and the boy curled into a ball, still crying. Harry lost the adrenaline rush, and realized what he had done. He had become exactly what he had hated, and he had even used one of Dudley's tricks. The anger that had taken over had left him, and now there was nothing left but disgust for himself. Harry channeled white healing magic through his hand, and the burns healed themselves as Harry watched. Malfoy did not move from his spot, and his crying did not lessen.

From the grounds close to the castle, a red jet came out and slammed into Malfoy, causing the boy to unfurl and quiet. A faint shout of, "Stupefy!" in chorus was heard, and red jets hit Crabbe and Goyle simultaneously after that. Hermione, with Fred and George following, came running over to the cluster of boys, wand in hand. Hermione took one look at the scene in front of her, cast a shocked look at Harry, and goggled at Neville, who was shrinking, now that the fight was over, back to normal size. The twins' eyes were locked on the flames in Ron's hands, which, at their scrutiny, he sheepishly put out.

Hermione was the first to speak. "What the hell happened here? Why was Malfoy on the ground? What happened to Neville? I was just going to meet up with you at Hagrid's house after the twins told me where you were, and I come upon what looks to be a fight! What have you got to say for yourselves?" She finished off with a glare directed at Harry. The twins, whose attention moved from Ron to Harry while Hermione talked, noticed he looked guiltier than he should have after fighting with his enemy.

At Harry's silence, Fred and George came closer. They could see the remains of tears on Malfoy's face. This was no laughing matter. Despite what everyone said about the twins, they were capable of being serious once in a while. They leaned into Harry, and Fred spoke. "Harry, whatever you have done, we need to fix it now. We can't do that if you don't tell us what you did." Harry looked up, but didn't say anything. "Whatever you've done, we've done worse. We won't judge, and we can help. Trust us."

Harry was somber. "I did something bad Hermione. I almost burned Malfoy's face off because he stuck his nose in our business. We might be in expulsion territory here. I don't know what to do! I can't go back the Durselys. I can't! You know that. So how can you help? Really, How is it possible?"

Hermione took a deep breath at the mention of torture, but didn't say anything until Harry was done. She looked away for a moment, unable to meet his gaze, then turned back with steel in her eyes. "Are the burns on his face healed?" Harry nodded. "Then we obliviate them. We put in a false memory of a fight, which they lost. Do we need to erase what he saw in the hut, too?" Harry nodded again, overcome with relief this time. Hermione had a plan. He wasn't going to get expelled. "Then we modify their memories so they never got to the hut. You caught them on their way out to meet you. Then you fought. They lost, and Malfoy and the others were knocked out. We just have to act fast." Hermione moved swiftly, directing Harry out of the way while she and the twins worked on the Slytherins.

"Now the incantation is _Obliviate_, but that's only part of the job. We need to concentrate both on the memories we want to erase and the ones we want to put in. You have to visualize it. Imagine the idea of the false memories subsuming the real ones. We only have one shot at this. Are you ready?" At their grim nods, she nodded to herself. "Okay then. _Obliviate_!" A gray light shot out from each of their wands, hitting each of the boys in the forehead. Feeling like this was a little anticlimactic, Harry scuffed the dirt with his shoe. It was a complete coincidence that some of the dirt landed on Malfoy's robes.

"Okay, now all we can do now is wake them up. We can't tell if it worked until we do. Harry, you want to do the honors? The incantation is _Rennervate_. Cast it at his chest, and see if the charm worked. Then we can get out of here, and I can tear into you for making me break wizarding law."

Harry cast the spell, and a bright red light hit Malfoy in the chest. He started to groan, and opened his eyes. He looked at Harry, and Harry was relieved to see that his enemy's gray eyes were filled with anger rather than fear. The boy got to his feet with difficulty, and his hand reached for the wand in his back pocket. Harry raised his own wand, and Malfoy stopped. Instead, he sneered at Harry. "Looks like Golden boy Potter needs to bring in the muggle-born to get him out of a fix. When I tell my father about this…"

"You'll tell him what? That you lost a duel? That you couldn't keep your wand in your pants? Trust me he'll be a lot more upset that you went running to him than by whatever you have to tell him. Why don't you just go, Malfoy. You've lost today." Fred (or George) interjected. Crabbe and Goyle put their hands on Malfoy's shoulders, urging him to leave with them. With a huff, he shrugged them off and stormed his way back to the castle.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he watched them leave. He turned to Hermione, who was looking livid. Harry knew he had to work quickly. "We found out Hagrid has a dragon egg. We convinced him to give it up to the ministry so he could avoid jail time, but Malfoy spotted the egg through the window. We had to chase after him. I was just so angry! He was going to get my first real friend thrown in jail! I had to do something, and I did the first thing I could think of. I feel sick about what I've done, I'll never do it again, I promise. Please believe me! I can't stand the thought that I was just like them!" Harry had tears in the corner of his eyes, and he wiped them away before the boys could see. Hermione didn't miss them however, and her demeanor softened.

"Just don't do it again Harry. Come on. We need to get back inside." Harry and the other boys followed her into the castle, silent, until Hermione remembered something. "Oh Neville, congratulations on making your breakthrough. Do you remember how you did it? Could you do it again?" Neville and Harry smiled, while Ron rolled his eyes and the twins just looked confused.

Harry and his friends were waiting on tenterhooks for a few days, waiting to see if the Slytherins remembered anything they were not supposed to. It seemed they were in the clear though, and nothing came of their little scuffle. Harry and Hermione went to Dumbledore to get amnesty for Hagrid, and Dumbledore said he would work on it for them. All was fine for the group, until they received a note from Hagrid. It was only two words, simply '_It's hatching'._

"_Is everything in place?_"

"Yes Lord Yawgmoth, our pawn is ready to begin the ritual and our forces are in place. Even if they catch wind of it, they will not be able to get past us to stop him from completing the ritual. Once the school is destroyed there will be no stopping us."

"_I grow tired of waiting. My other plans are nearing fruition. This distraction will be tolerated no longer. Make it so._"

"Yes my lord. Thy will be done!"

**Coming up on the climax to the story. I hope everyone's as excited as I am about it****_!_**


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